Leh. Indian Tibet
Everything starts when the guesthouse owner opens before you the door of the room where you are going to live, and you see apples and buddhist flags.
And then you look at the room itself where windows are three walls out of four.
And in the end you even move into another room because you came in the cold days and apple tree’s shade which is so nice in the summer becomes a disaster in the autumn. And in your new room there are no hindrances for the sun to reach inside and for you to admire snowy peaks.
Time goes by, the cold days when you had to put on everything you could find in your bag are over. And you go out for your first walk past brooks among stones and autumn trees.
Past roofs of tibetan houses, past temples and stupas appearing in a distance.
Even having not yet reached the city you run into a stupa right by the road.
As I find out later this is Kalachakra stupa. I will be thinking a lot which guesthouse to choose for my future tourists in Ladakh: near this stupa or a bit higher but with a gompa inside.
When I find out that women cannot go inside that gompa because of Palden Lhamo relic, I would have no more doubts: when I make tour to Ladakh we are going to live exactly here.
Every day we would walk the road with striking views.
And turn the wheels with mantras at the entrance into the main part of city.
But finally lively city streets start.
Tibetan grandmothers appear.
Restaurants for tourists.
Stalls with tibetan souvenirs.
And even something like a map.
Turning off the main road one can get into narrow passages between houses where virtually all the parapets are decorated with flower pots.
Brooks flow right through the city. A bit further from the "civilization" they are a natural stream among stones, closer to the city center they become bordered.
And you can see constant snowy peaks behind it all.
Buddhist monasteries.
And stupas.
Everything here is extremely Tibetan. Even design of the gents toilet icon could not go without national style.
But now I’m most interested what the building with the stupa appearing in a distance is.
And how I can get there.
I walk past the mosque.
Walk past small street stupa.
I get into extremely narrow lanes.
And see a sign! I’m definately on the right way.
Then there come long stairways, probably not too steep but without proper adaptation to the heights I hardly can breathe.
But at least I can catch a breath seeing snowy mountains.
And I still get some endorphins from the sight of stupas and mantras right among the houses.
I look into the windows, look onto clothes faded in the bright mountain sun. I’m still on the right way.
I steal a look inside an opened door: what can I find there? Same windows and buddhist flags.
As a return perspective the mosque can be seen between the flags.
Sun is heating. I take of my shawl, mackintosh and sweater. I’m almost at the very top, now I can have some rest.
Then I reach the stupa which I’ve seen while walking in the city. Now I can go round it.
Can go into the palace near to it.
And come back to the city by a wide public road. It’s very nice I didn’t know about it before. Had I’ve taken a taxi I would miss such a nice walk.
I look back.
Signs are much more solid from the road’s side.
This road at some moment branches to another, higher monastery but my strength would not be enough to climb there.
A muslim street is on the way to the city center.
Headscarves can be light, half-transparent, put over only as a symbol, but also there can be be black impermeable overalls.
Almost at the same place, by another turn there are old buddhist stupas. And customary emaciated cow obtaining its breakfast, lunch and dinner from what remains after humans’ breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Ordinary indian blocks start.
Here shops with Buddha statues and TV shops are neighbors, but the latter attracts local people much more.
Plastic bags are prohibited throughout all Ladakh so that it would remain clean. Advantage is given to natural materials.
And again: one can encounter stupas right in the yards, so dense that one can walk around then through a balcony only.
Wheels are turned by almost all the passers by, even by soldiers.
At the entrance to Leh there is whole passage with small prayer wheels.
In a little distance from the gate there is very interesting, absolutely plain small stupa in a special hollow of a stone fence.
After all this walking I stop by a shoe cleaner. Usually I wear sandals in India and only smile when they offer me to clean them. But as now I have real boots on then why not trying?
Later I regret it a lot and curse Indian service in my thoughts. Yellowish stitching of my boots which suited yellow stitching of my jeans disappears completely under black cream. Also my boots change the hue from a noble as it seemed to me mat to black shining. And they become absolutely ugly. During first two days I’m thinking to wash them with soap and brush after this "cleaning" but buddhist humility and human laziness overcome. It is said in one of the sutras that you don’t need to kill your enemies, you can only sit by the river and one day you would see their corpses floating by. It’s a story about impermanence only but this approach is good for faults of Indian service as well. After 5 days all the creams diminishes and my shoes return to their original state like they have never been polished before. So only positive impressions remain.
I walk though streets filled with souvenir shops.
Citizens are queuing to the ATM. It’s decorated with mantra flags just like everything else.
A monk is standing still with an alms bowl. There is nobody except him on the photograph but sometimes whole crowds can be going past. And he remains still.
Ladakhi crafts remind me a bit of some traditional Russian ones.
Customary Paul Khoelio is in the window of a book store. And numerous books of Dalai-Lama are also there.
Names of the shops are made with some humour: "more shit on the second floor" and "same same but different". The latter phrase is used when the seller tries to make you buy something of much lower quality than you want.
Before coming back I need to have a dinner. I can do this in any of the restaurants with a terrace right by the road. Israeli dishes are especially nice.
I can go up to the roof of another restaurant and enjoy the views.
And also I can get into a cheap and totally featureless Indian eating house. After I was explained how to eat Indian dishes in a proper way I even started liking indian cousine (it’s not even been three years…) and coming into such kind of places more often.
Though my favourite still was absolutely European looking cafe where they served marvelous chocolate cakes and real espresso. Moreover it was the closest to my home.
Oh, by the way, it’s time to go home.
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March 21, 2009 1:44 pm
