As always, new photos (from my journeys to Ziro and the Tawang valley in Arunachal Pradesh) at left.
First off I hereby retract every previous reference I made to "mountains" on this blog or really anywhere else in my life.
A week and a half ago my traveling companion Namrata and I flew in a giant 1970's Soviet built helicopter from Itanagar into the Tawang valley deep in the Himalayan mountains. We flew first over the plains of Assam - and then into Bhutan as the mountains rose higher and higher. In Bhutan we said huge river gorgeous, deep evergreen forests, and rice fields and small villages terraced high up the mountains. When we reached the Tawang valley, a nook of India lodged between Bhutan and Tibet, the mountains had reached an incredible scale - remaining snow capped even in the Indian version of summer. It felt as if we had landed on top of the world.
The Tawang valley is overwhelmingly Tibetan Buddhist. This was the place the Dalai Lama fled to after the failed 1959 uprising against the Chinese occupation before moving on to set up the government in exile in Dharamsala. There are an number of monasteries still operating in the valley - include the Tawang monastery in a hilltop above the town. Five hundred monks live there - including a number of kids. The place is gorgeous. On rainy days we would be in or above the clouds - and incredible feeling.
In the sanctuary of the 330 year old monastery there were deeply colored painted walls, and hanging cloth banners and statues everywhere. We attended prayers frequently - which are a mix of deep religious reverence and hilarity. The monks chant for hours on end in an incredibly deep base voice - words that sound like they almost come from somewhere below the human voice box. This chanting is accented by occasional drums and wind instruments that make for a dirge like effect. The prayers are lead by the senior monks - the child monks have to attend three times a day - 4am, 8am, & 3pm - and their attention span cannot possibly match this regime. They talk and play constantly with each other in the sanctuary during prayers. I saw various spit ball wars transpire. I also saw a 10 year old monk run into the sanctuary and leap, body-slam-style, onto one of his friends who was already sitting on the cushions. A choice which earned him a reprimand and a solid thwack on the back from the leather belt of a senior monk with Dalai Lama style glasses. During the prayers they also made repeated offerings - tea or oranges and even some Coca-Cola.
During this leg of the journey Namrata continued exploring local perceptions of the fact that China claims this land as their own and occupied it during the 1962 Sino-India war. I got to join in a conversation with a monk who acted as a spokesperson for the monastery on the issue - and as we waited the day before we joined some senior monks around a fire in their dining room as they plied us with repeated cups of butter tea.
On my final day in Tawang I walked on a trial that had approximately 2000 steps down the valley to another monastery which was the birthplace of the 6th Dalai Lama. When I visited this monastery a celebration was underway with a hundred or so locals sitting on steps outside watching a ritual that I believe marked the end of Losar or the Tibetan Buddhist New Year. A senior monk sat on a throne in the entry way in an elaborate cap and robes while monks in the sanctuary chanted and played music directed out the front doors. A giant bonfire burned in front of this senior monk, and teenage monks came occasionally with objects that he would bless and that would then be tossed into the fire. On a windy cold day that threatened rain the monks gave me and the other onlookers some ginger tea.
Completing the religious character of this trip I "participated" in the celebration of the holiday of Holi which took place while I was in Tawang. While Tawang historically was 100% Tibetan Buddhist new settlers have moved in with Hindu backgrounds. During Holi Hindus rove in groups around town with bags full of colored powder that they cover you with from head to foot. When I saw the first gang so armed I thought about running but the leader starting chanting "USA! USA!" so what could I do but submit. They poured green and pink and red powder all over my face and jacket. It turns out being covered in pink powder is a good conversation starter as everyone I ran into that day chatted with me and frequently had me pose for pictures with them on their cell phones.
After Namrata and I flew out to Assam I journeyed south again to stay with Matthew and Father Lumlang in the Meghalaya capital of Shillong before flying back to the brick oven that is Tamil Nadu during the Indian summer. In Tamil Nadu I spent a couple of days in Chennai before heading on to Garden of Peace school near Kaniyambadi village on Saturday. On Thursday I spent a day with my friend Sheikh and his brother and his friends and later Diku - that we described as the most relaxing day of our entire lives. Our accomplishments for the day were: going to the tea shop three times, eating, taking four naps, and watching an eight hour World Cup cricket match against Australia that India scored an unbelievable comeback to win (and to set up a semi-final on Wednesday against Pakistan that will stop all work in south Asia). The next day I journeyed to the University of Madras to visit friends there including Ramu and attend a conference on Human Rights in Asia with a focus that day on Burma and Tibet.
My plan is to chill at the Garden of Peace School/Ghandi-King-Mandela Farm for a couple of days - Mirza has joined me here - before returning to Chennai to see friends on Wednesday - leave early Thursday for NYC - and then back to Minnesota on Sunday.
Ryan
First off I hereby retract every previous reference I made to "mountains" on this blog or really anywhere else in my life.
A week and a half ago my traveling companion Namrata and I flew in a giant 1970's Soviet built helicopter from Itanagar into the Tawang valley deep in the Himalayan mountains. We flew first over the plains of Assam - and then into Bhutan as the mountains rose higher and higher. In Bhutan we said huge river gorgeous, deep evergreen forests, and rice fields and small villages terraced high up the mountains. When we reached the Tawang valley, a nook of India lodged between Bhutan and Tibet, the mountains had reached an incredible scale - remaining snow capped even in the Indian version of summer. It felt as if we had landed on top of the world.
The Tawang valley is overwhelmingly Tibetan Buddhist. This was the place the Dalai Lama fled to after the failed 1959 uprising against the Chinese occupation before moving on to set up the government in exile in Dharamsala. There are an number of monasteries still operating in the valley - include the Tawang monastery in a hilltop above the town. Five hundred monks live there - including a number of kids. The place is gorgeous. On rainy days we would be in or above the clouds - and incredible feeling.
In the sanctuary of the 330 year old monastery there were deeply colored painted walls, and hanging cloth banners and statues everywhere. We attended prayers frequently - which are a mix of deep religious reverence and hilarity. The monks chant for hours on end in an incredibly deep base voice - words that sound like they almost come from somewhere below the human voice box. This chanting is accented by occasional drums and wind instruments that make for a dirge like effect. The prayers are lead by the senior monks - the child monks have to attend three times a day - 4am, 8am, & 3pm - and their attention span cannot possibly match this regime. They talk and play constantly with each other in the sanctuary during prayers. I saw various spit ball wars transpire. I also saw a 10 year old monk run into the sanctuary and leap, body-slam-style, onto one of his friends who was already sitting on the cushions. A choice which earned him a reprimand and a solid thwack on the back from the leather belt of a senior monk with Dalai Lama style glasses. During the prayers they also made repeated offerings - tea or oranges and even some Coca-Cola.
During this leg of the journey Namrata continued exploring local perceptions of the fact that China claims this land as their own and occupied it during the 1962 Sino-India war. I got to join in a conversation with a monk who acted as a spokesperson for the monastery on the issue - and as we waited the day before we joined some senior monks around a fire in their dining room as they plied us with repeated cups of butter tea.
On my final day in Tawang I walked on a trial that had approximately 2000 steps down the valley to another monastery which was the birthplace of the 6th Dalai Lama. When I visited this monastery a celebration was underway with a hundred or so locals sitting on steps outside watching a ritual that I believe marked the end of Losar or the Tibetan Buddhist New Year. A senior monk sat on a throne in the entry way in an elaborate cap and robes while monks in the sanctuary chanted and played music directed out the front doors. A giant bonfire burned in front of this senior monk, and teenage monks came occasionally with objects that he would bless and that would then be tossed into the fire. On a windy cold day that threatened rain the monks gave me and the other onlookers some ginger tea.
Completing the religious character of this trip I "participated" in the celebration of the holiday of Holi which took place while I was in Tawang. While Tawang historically was 100% Tibetan Buddhist new settlers have moved in with Hindu backgrounds. During Holi Hindus rove in groups around town with bags full of colored powder that they cover you with from head to foot. When I saw the first gang so armed I thought about running but the leader starting chanting "USA! USA!" so what could I do but submit. They poured green and pink and red powder all over my face and jacket. It turns out being covered in pink powder is a good conversation starter as everyone I ran into that day chatted with me and frequently had me pose for pictures with them on their cell phones.
After Namrata and I flew out to Assam I journeyed south again to stay with Matthew and Father Lumlang in the Meghalaya capital of Shillong before flying back to the brick oven that is Tamil Nadu during the Indian summer. In Tamil Nadu I spent a couple of days in Chennai before heading on to Garden of Peace school near Kaniyambadi village on Saturday. On Thursday I spent a day with my friend Sheikh and his brother and his friends and later Diku - that we described as the most relaxing day of our entire lives. Our accomplishments for the day were: going to the tea shop three times, eating, taking four naps, and watching an eight hour World Cup cricket match against Australia that India scored an unbelievable comeback to win (and to set up a semi-final on Wednesday against Pakistan that will stop all work in south Asia). The next day I journeyed to the University of Madras to visit friends there including Ramu and attend a conference on Human Rights in Asia with a focus that day on Burma and Tibet.
My plan is to chill at the Garden of Peace School/Ghandi-King-Mandela Farm for a couple of days - Mirza has joined me here - before returning to Chennai to see friends on Wednesday - leave early Thursday for NYC - and then back to Minnesota on Sunday.
Ryan
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