Mental gymnastics
Door: Tim
Blijf op de hoogte en volg Tim
06 Februari 2012 | India, Dharamsala
A big part of travelling is meditation. You get your mind jumping through hoops at times. One moment you’re soaking up as many details as you can at some ancient temple – turning your body into a huge antenna, straining your senses to receive as much input as they can stand, and filing it all away to look back on fondly one rainy day at some desk. The next you’re putting all your energy into placing your mind elsewhere, away from the grueling seven hour bus ride you’re on, whatever damage it’s doing to your spine, and the visions of your own horrible, fiery death every time the driver edges precariously close to the sheer drop to your left.
These things you forget.
Especially when, at the end of said bus ride, you arrive in a place that makes it all worthwhile.
There was a power out when I arrived and yet, as I made my way through the dark streets, I already knew there was something different about this place. Maybe it was the lack of traffic. Or noise. Or beggars sleeping on every street corner. Or maybe it was the crisp mountain air and the winding little footpaths that put one in mind of Tolkien’s Shire (if one were, you know, a geek). But I knew that I had finally found one of those places I would have to tear myself away from. And so I walked, a stupid grin on my face. That night it was so cold in my hotel room I could see my breath, but I was kept warm by sheer excitement.
The following day I found out my feeling were dead on. When daylight revealed snow-covered mountaintops and forests of pine trees housing playful monkeys and soaring eagles. I welcome you, my friends, to McLeod Ganj.
You may have heard of this place. Only people may have used a different name. That of Dharamsala. This is actually a bigger town about a half an hour down the road of little interest. The only reason people go there is to catch a bus here, to the seat of the Tibetan government-in-exile and the home of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. Ever since fleeing Tibet in 1959, this little backwater is where the big man lives. As a result, the town is made up out of equal parts tourists, Indians, and an ever growing number of Tibetan refugees. Everywhere you turn you see the maroon robes of monks. Monks having lunch, monks in sneakers, monks talking on cell phones. And they all look awesome.
Unfortunately His Holiness was too busy leading a nation to meet me (ooh, look at me, I’m the Dalai Lama, lalala). But a visit to the Tsuglagkhang Complex (I know, it sounds Klingon, right?), where the government is housed, is still fascinating. I had to keep reminding myself I’m still in India. Once you’ve spent a morning in and around the complex, there’s not a whole lot to see in McLeod. But there’s plenty to do. Everywhere you look you find posters advertising courses in Tibetan cooking, reiki, traditional Tibetan massage, Hindi, yoga, meditation and so forth. None of which excited me as much as the makeshift movie theater I discovered that shows the latest Hollywood releases – courtesy of the internet. Sure it’s indulgent, if not sinful, but long ago I resigned myself to the fact that I have certain needs. Needs which can only be satisfied by sitting in a dark room with strangers.
And so I fill my days making long walks, reading, sampling Tibetan food (which, so far, actually kind of sucks) and getting myself ready for a 12 hour bus ride, all the way back to Delhi. Yesterday I found out I seem to have lost a day somewhere, so the halfway stop in Chandigarh I had planned has now been scrapped. After all, I need to get to Delhi in time. I have a date.
While I may not be on a "spiritual journey" like many of the people here, even I can feel there's something good and wholesome about this place. I feel I should be telling you about the suffering of the Tibetan people at the hands of the Chinese. Of the thousands that risk their lives each year trying to get here. Of the monuments to martys who have burnt themselves to death out of protest. I've been to the museums and I've taken it all in. But utlimately, they are not the things I choose to remember about this place.
These things you forget.
PS: As per your request, there are now pictures! Brought to you in color and magnificent 2D! Check them out.
These things you forget.
Especially when, at the end of said bus ride, you arrive in a place that makes it all worthwhile.
There was a power out when I arrived and yet, as I made my way through the dark streets, I already knew there was something different about this place. Maybe it was the lack of traffic. Or noise. Or beggars sleeping on every street corner. Or maybe it was the crisp mountain air and the winding little footpaths that put one in mind of Tolkien’s Shire (if one were, you know, a geek). But I knew that I had finally found one of those places I would have to tear myself away from. And so I walked, a stupid grin on my face. That night it was so cold in my hotel room I could see my breath, but I was kept warm by sheer excitement.
The following day I found out my feeling were dead on. When daylight revealed snow-covered mountaintops and forests of pine trees housing playful monkeys and soaring eagles. I welcome you, my friends, to McLeod Ganj.
You may have heard of this place. Only people may have used a different name. That of Dharamsala. This is actually a bigger town about a half an hour down the road of little interest. The only reason people go there is to catch a bus here, to the seat of the Tibetan government-in-exile and the home of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. Ever since fleeing Tibet in 1959, this little backwater is where the big man lives. As a result, the town is made up out of equal parts tourists, Indians, and an ever growing number of Tibetan refugees. Everywhere you turn you see the maroon robes of monks. Monks having lunch, monks in sneakers, monks talking on cell phones. And they all look awesome.
Unfortunately His Holiness was too busy leading a nation to meet me (ooh, look at me, I’m the Dalai Lama, lalala). But a visit to the Tsuglagkhang Complex (I know, it sounds Klingon, right?), where the government is housed, is still fascinating. I had to keep reminding myself I’m still in India. Once you’ve spent a morning in and around the complex, there’s not a whole lot to see in McLeod. But there’s plenty to do. Everywhere you look you find posters advertising courses in Tibetan cooking, reiki, traditional Tibetan massage, Hindi, yoga, meditation and so forth. None of which excited me as much as the makeshift movie theater I discovered that shows the latest Hollywood releases – courtesy of the internet. Sure it’s indulgent, if not sinful, but long ago I resigned myself to the fact that I have certain needs. Needs which can only be satisfied by sitting in a dark room with strangers.
And so I fill my days making long walks, reading, sampling Tibetan food (which, so far, actually kind of sucks) and getting myself ready for a 12 hour bus ride, all the way back to Delhi. Yesterday I found out I seem to have lost a day somewhere, so the halfway stop in Chandigarh I had planned has now been scrapped. After all, I need to get to Delhi in time. I have a date.
While I may not be on a "spiritual journey" like many of the people here, even I can feel there's something good and wholesome about this place. I feel I should be telling you about the suffering of the Tibetan people at the hands of the Chinese. Of the thousands that risk their lives each year trying to get here. Of the monuments to martys who have burnt themselves to death out of protest. I've been to the museums and I've taken it all in. But utlimately, they are not the things I choose to remember about this place.
These things you forget.
PS: As per your request, there are now pictures! Brought to you in color and magnificent 2D! Check them out.
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06 Februari 2012 - 19:52
Batman:
Goed om te zien dat je je hebt aangepast, dat rode gewaad en die stok staan je fantastisch! -
06 Februari 2012 - 20:41
Kadelij:
Toch nog iets aan de meditering lessen gehad?? -
08 Februari 2012 - 16:02
OpaAa:
Mooi die foto's. Wat fijn zo'n busrit; geeft je toch maar evenzeven uur om te mediteren! Heeft da nog wat opgeleverd?
Ga zo voort mijn (klein)zoon.
Hartelijke groet.
OpaAa -
11 Februari 2012 - 14:29
Axel:
WHAT?! Pics in 2D?! What is this, the 19th century!?
Worst.Blog.Ever. -
23 Februari 2012 - 14:41
GayPrince:
And the date he's been in Delhi goes on and on and on and on... He's forgetting he has friends who wants to know about his date :P -
25 Februari 2012 - 12:39
GayPrince:
He's been = he has been having :P
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