Tashi Delek

Hey everyone, Chrissy here. Just wanted to send out a quick update as Heather and I have both been terrible at keeping up this blog…SORRY!

Long story short, Heather and I are leaving Dharamsala tomorrow. The past week has been a whirlwind of last minute shopping and heart-wrenching good-byes. Although we’ve been preparing ourselves all week for this inevitable departure -trying to soak in every last moment and taking pictures of EVERYTHING - tomorrow I’m sure is going to quite a difficult day. While we’ve already had to say some good-byes to friends, I believe the hardest good-byes are yet to come as we will have to part ways with our host families.

At the moment it is quite difficult for me to comprehend that I will no longer be living here. It is so surreal and I can hardly imagine what life is going to be like from here on out. All I know is that tomorrow, we leave for Delhi where we will spend a couple days before our flight back to the USA Wednesday night. Thursday morning, we will be back on the other side of the world.

While I look forward to returning home and seeing friends and family, I will dearly miss the wonderful friends and “family” I have here in Dharamsala. I can hardly express how thankful I am for their hospitality and all that they have taught me over the past 5 months.

Although people often say that all good things must come to an end, I really don’t want to think of this as an ending. I may be leaving India, but I hope that does not mean the end of these wonderful relationships that have developed in my time here. Moreover, it seems to me that Dharamsala has a way of captivating people and calling them back; one cannot come here once, leave, and never return. Thus, perhaps instead of “good-bye” to India, I should simply say “see you later”.

Hello all, Chrissy here. So, I know many of you are still wondering what exactly it is that I have been up to all this time in India. Although I could try and explain to you what “GLT” is and everything I’m supposed to be doing for that, when it really comes down to it, the majority of my time and energy was spent volunteering with an organization called Tong-Len working with children in Charan (a slum community in Lower Dharamsala). While there is much I could say about my experience and how these children have completely stolen my heart, that is not the point of this blog post. What I really want to share with you all is a bit of information on a fundraiser my friend (and fellow volunteer) is doing for Tong-Len.

Her name is Heather (no, not Heather Murphy - my travel companion who also writes on this blog…but a different Heather). She is pretty much AMAZING and has a HUGE heart. Like myself, she has fallen absolutely in love with the children of Charan and sees the hope and change that Tong-Len is bringing to this community.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take a bit of time to follow this link and read some of the most recent posts on her blog  http://hzimm.wordpress.com/

Reading her posts will not only give you a better idea of the organization and community I’ve been working with, but will also explain her FUNDRAISER.

While I am not going to explain her whole fundraiser here (b/c I want you to go to her blog), I want to emphasize that the task she seeks to accomplish (walking between McLeod Ganj and Charan, completing 12 roundtrips in 2 days) is extremely difficult. Not only will it be challenging physically (especially in the heat - with current temperatures nearing 100*F), but it may also be challenging emotionally, as this walk carries great significance/symbolism. I am truly inspired by her passion for this cause and the lengths she is willing to go to spread the word.

Please note that although the walk itself will be taking place this weekend (May 22-23) she will continue to accept donations in support of this cause until June 30. As she mentions in her blog, if you make a donation, please email her at hzimm32@gmail.com

Again, PLEASE go to her blog and read about Tong-Len, the children of Charan, and her fundraiser for their future. Additionally, if you would like to know more about Tong-Len, feel free to visit their website at www.tong-len.org

Written by Heather

This has been such a strange week. On the other hand, I’m not surprised.

Let me begin by setting the scene:

SETTING. Alana’s apartment, morning. The sun is streaming through the window onto her bed, and you can faintly hear birds singing outside.

For those of you who don’t know, I have a new best friend named Alana (don’t worry Chrissy, you’re still my old best friend, and as we know from Dawa, that makes a big difference). She’s pretty much amazing, and I spend the night at her apartment an average of 2 nights per week. Why? Because she lives in town, silly, and I live outside of town. If I want to stay in town for a concert or anything that will go past 10pm at night, it’s a better idea for me to stay in town instead of trying to get a rickshaw or taxi late at night, and having to wake my family up to open the gate so I can come home. Oh, and she’s pretty much amazing. But I said that already…

This week, I spent the night at Alana’s four times. Why, you ask?

SEQUENCE OF EVENTS.

MONDAY NIGHT. The air is warm and clear and a small gathering of people are at Khana Nirvana, their tables pushed against the wall to make a clear space that everyone watches with anticipation while munching on their vegetarian burgers.

Khana Nirvana has an open mike night every Monday that I had heard about and wanted to go to for weeks. Finally, this monday of all mondays, I decided I would go. As it was going to go late, later than I wanted to return to my family, I decided to spend the night with Alana.

CHARACTERS

1. Manic man musing about how marxists had malevolently meddled with his mind

2. Smooth singer supported by a system of science set up by the supercapabilities of smartphones, ie the iphone, which synced her cycling sounds and set them into songs

WEDNESDAY NIGHT. A large group of people head away from town on a dark road in high spirits, flashlights waving, only to suddenly about face and head back toward the city lights, suddenly confused and abuzz with discussion.

I heard there was going to be a great Flamenco concert in town. Everyone was going. So I thought, I’ll go, and I’ll stay at Alana’s again. But then the concert was cancelled. So we chilled on a restaurant rooftop, where we should have bought food but didn’t, and listened to some indians and inji’s (white people) play music.

CHARACTERS

1. Indian instrumentalists with irratic and insane imaginations

2. Guru guy giving advice while getting grossly drunk

3. Flamenco guitarist who failed to furnish his fans with a full festival of fun

THURSDAY MORNING.

I may have had a strangely starbucks-esque experience at Cafe Coffee Day, completely OD’d on coffee and been insanely spastic the first half of the day, only to crash in the afternoon.

FRIDAY NIGHT. A light wind rushes across the dark porch outside Alana’s apartment, while a singular blue light emits from a laptop screen inside, highlighting the contours of two tired faces curled into bed.

Alana and I decided we wanted to go to Tsopema* on Saturday morning, catching a 6am bus. So obviously I had to spend the night again – no way I was going to trek from my house to town at 6am in the morning. On Friday night we had dinner with Chrissy’s family, and then Alana and I watched the beginning of two different movies, finishing neither. Very unfulfilling. Before we fell asleep, we decided we were waaaay too tired for the 6am bus, but maybe we would try another later bus to Tsopema.

SATURDAY MORNING/AFTERNOON. A small group of people sit on a blanket on a grassy hill, laughing and eating snacks while framed by giant snow-capped mountains above.

Of course, with that sort of attitude, we ended up never going to Tsopema at all. 10am Saturday morning, we ambled our way to the pancake hut, met Chrissy and an ADORABLE puppy named Angel, and had delicious blintzes. One had avocado inside… need I say more? (note: avocados are decidedly difficult to dine on in dharamsala). After, we decided to have a PICNIC. Excellent idea, eh? But then it rained. Damn. But then it stopped! And the sun returned! Rejoice! So we had a picnic at Swiss Park. And I attempted to fly my kite (thanks, mom and dad! No thanks to you, wind!). Oh, and we managed to procure sourdough bread and cheese – pretty impressive for India, although if we wanted to be really impressive we would have found an avocado, I suppose.

CHARACTERS

1. Adorable puppy named Angel acting like a animal and adamantly acclaiming for attention

SATURDAY NIGHT. In a dark and cool night, a throng of people jump and dance to the beat of a rock concert, thrusting their bodies and flailing their limbs in a drunken mess, each man trying to out-do the other.

After the picnic, we returned to town for the BIGGEST SHOW EVER IN MCLEOD GANJ. At least that’s what all the signs said. Of course, it started 2 hours after it should have, but that’s just India time. In the end, it was a lot of fun and the music wasn’t half bad, although once we started dancing the amount of leering that went on was almost enough to counteract the amount of fun I was having… but not quite enough! I persevered. The concert was followed by a second, smaller concert at a restaurant, some really terrible tasting food, some drunk tibetans, and the puppy again (rejoice!). By 1am, we retired to bed, only to have the puppy brought to us, which for the first time we weren’t excited about, especially when it promptly peed on Alana’s bed and shat on her floor. Great, thanks Angel. Too bad you’re so dang cute and fluffy that I can’t hate you.

CHARACTERS

1. Problematic puppy pee-ing and poop-ing on private property

2. Crazy crowd, carousing and clapping to the carols of a concert

3. Leering lines of lads, looking at ladies’ limbs as they lean and leap

SUNDAY MORNING. On the side of a crowded street is a small fabric shop, busting at every possible juncture with a delicious variety of textures and colors. Inside, an enthusiastic clerk is pulling fabric off of the walls and tossing it onto the counter, where two foreign girls are pealing through the pieces.

Welcome to Sunday morning! We slept in again and had a late breakfast, accompanied by a trip to the temple and then another trip to lower dharamsala. Alana and I were on a hunt for fabric, which we found, and bought, only to discover that we were being outrageously ripped off (it’s India, so being ripped off is no big occurance, but this was pretty bad), which just turned the entire day sour. There’s no feeling like being acutely aware that you are a white person and you are an easy target for being ripped off. It makes even the air feel sinister. It’s a difficult feeling to shake, but Alana helped by making me say two positive things everytime I complained about one thing (thanks, babe).

CHARACTERS

1. Shady shopkeepers selling superexpensive satins and silks to susceptible strangers

SUNDAY NIGHT. In a quiet and dark room, a young woman pulls out her laptop from a backpack and carries it back to her bed. Sighing loudly, she settles down and picks up a cup of tea, while preparing to type…

Finally, I returned home on Sunday night, only to completely collapse. There is something wonderfully bland, boring, and simple about home in comparison to the complex web of relationships and people that constantly surrounds you in town. No matter where you go in town, people are watching and taking note of your behavior, because they all know you, even if not by name. If you are a white person who lives in Mcleod Ganj for longer than a month, they all know you and take notice. You’ve got to wave at the right people and ignore the right people… it can be quite the tiring process. But at home, although I may be accosted by one attention-seeking 3-year-old, things are quiet and simple and beautiful. As I have learned to say in Chinese, wa hung shung yao ping jing da shung ho – I really just want a quiet life.

CHARACTERS

1. Me

*Tsopema = Rewalsar = a lake that is sacred to Buddhists, Hindus, and Sikhs alike, although sacred to Buddhists because it is believed to be the spot where Guru Rimpoche flew from, when he flew from India to Tibet to deliver the teachings of the Buddha.

Wow. April is over. I feel like it just began. So much happened that the time just flew by. It’s crazy to think that I’ve been here for 3 full months already! In many ways it feel like I’ve been here forever, and life here seems pretty normal. Yet there are so many new and different things I have yet to learn about and/or experience that it’s difficult to wrap my head around the fact that my time here is now on a decline.

Before I go on, here’s a little glimpse of what April was like for me:

I moved in with my host family, hiked to Triund (a popular trekking destination here in Dharamsala with an absolutely breathtaking view of the mountains), went to a mela (carnival/county fair kind of thing) and went on the super sketch Indian version of the “swinging pirate ship”ride, visited a nearby monastery(in Tashi Jong) and observed a special “cham” dance, acquired a new obsession with “cool, old doors”, visited a tea factory, finally figured out the post office so I could send and receive mail here, celebrated my host nephew’s 1^st birthday, learned how to make/practiced making momos, discovered that my taste buds no longer reject bananas (one of several things here that I used to never eat back home, but now enjoy), had my idea of Earth Day completely changed (as we collected trash around the tent school…and then burned all the collected trash), learned how to make tingmo (Tibetan steamed bread/rolls), visited the beautiful Norbulingka (institute for traditional Tibetan handicrafts), celebrated Easter by attending a service at a really old Anglican church and having a small picnic with friends (during which we painted eggs with the children in their neighborhood), successfully picked and purchased a watermelon on my own (it was DELICIOUS),  met the sister and mother of Jigme (who I had lived with in March), found out that Jeff got accepted as a transfer to UC BERKELEY (I’m so proud of him!),  and finally (last but not least), I realized how completely in love I am with the children at the tent school where I’ve been volunteering since February.

So, now that the month of May has begun, I am slowly and reluctantly coming to terms with the fact that my time here in Dharamsala is coming to an end. It is difficult for me to comprehend that this is my last month in the area (as Heather and I are taking the month of June to travel a little before leaving India) and that after this month, I will no longer be living here. Essentially, this phase of my life will be over – which is really strange to think about as I have so much I need to do and finish up before leaving and before I will really be done with GLT. Nonetheless, I feel that this month is or will be a major turning point. More immediately, as this week comes to an end, my daily routine here will be changing and life as I have known it for most of my time here will no longer be the same. As I need to devote more of my time and energy towards completing my studies/research, this week was my last week going to the tent school every day. While I will still go visit a few times before I leave Dharamsala, it is hard for me to imagine not seeing these children five days a week. These past three months, they have completely consumed my time, energy, and thoughts. While it is often overwhelming and exhausting to work with them (even just for 3 hours a day), these children stole my heart from the very first day. I really don’t know how to describe it or explain it, but there is just something about them that just keeps calling you back. Even when I got sick, or was simply exhausted, or struggling with cultural adjustment, I never wanted to miss a day at the slum. Even weekends I would find myself missing them and, miracle of all miracles, I actually looked forward to Mondays! Moreover, on any given day, even if I found myself tired or sick or dreading work and thinking negative thoughts on my way to the slum, all the negativity would completely vanish and be suddenly replaced with an overwhelming sense of joy as soon as I entered the tent school and was greeted with an explosion of noise composed of scattered “Good morning Maams”, repeated “hellos”, and random screaming. I truly am going to miss these children and while I’m not sure how I am going to handle leaving them behind, I know that their beautiful smiles, precious laughter, and unique personalities full of potential will forever be engrained in my heart and mind.

….And there you have it – a recap of April and a bit on where I’m at now. Again, I apologize for the lack of posts…but you know how it is; life just gets busy. Anywho, here are the links to photos from April:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150222765354134.350276.613279133&l=c124b33cd5

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150225311639134.354644.613279133&l=8f733a467a

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150222780959134.350302.613279133&l=33cb8f17ff

Until next time!

<3 Chrissy

Basically March was a crazy busy month. Especially since Losar (Tibetan New year) was late this year, the first half of the month was particularly busy. Thus, now that March has passed and it’s already a week into April, I (Chrissy here) am finally writing another blog post (and I apologize for my disappearance/lack of posts the past month or so, but maybe, hopefully, after this post, you will understand why).

Here is an “itinerary” of the happenings of March in the life of Chrissy Woo here in Mcleod Ganj/Dharamsala:

(Feb. 20 - Moved in with local Tibetan couple, Rabka and Jigme)

March 2: Left Mcleod to go with Jigme to Suja (about 3 hours away) to spend a couple days with Rabka’s father before Losar.

March 3: “Guthuk day” when all Tibetans eat Thukpa for dinner (kind of a “new years eve” tradition). see photos for more details

• On this day, Rabka’s father, Jigme, and I walked to a “nearby” monastery where the monks were all dressed up in costume and doing a traditional dance/ceremony for the upcoming Losar. see photos for more details

March 4: Relocated to Chauntra (about 10 minutes away from Suja), where we would celebrate Losar with more of Rabka’s relatives.

March 5: First day of Losar - Other than a trip to the nearest temple, this day is mostly just spent in the home spending time with family.

March 6: Second day of Losar - This is the day to go around to all the houses of more relatives and friends.

March 7:Third day of Losar - I’m not actually sure what people are “supposed” to do on this day, but Rabka, Jigme, and I went on a day trip to Tsopema/Rewalsar (3-4 hours away). see photos for more details.

March 8: Return to Mcleod and jump back into work/routine.

March 10: Uprising day. Rather important day for Tibetan people. The day began with a speech from the Dalai Lama which was then followed by a peaceful protest.

March 12&13: Decided to get out of town for the weekend and went with Heather and another friend, Alana, to Bir (about 3 hrs away, around the same area as Chauntra and Suja). see photos for more details

March 14&15: The Dalai Lama gave teachings at the main temple in Mcleod.

March 19: Full Moon day. Dalai Lama spoke/taught in the morning and many people also went to visit the temple at night where they had large, intricate butter sculptures on display.

March 20: Walked with Heather to a little town nearby called Dharamkot where they are said to have the best pizza in all of Dharamsala. It was quite delicious.

March 25: Rabka and Jigme had a special dinner in order to celebrate their marriage with Rabka’s coworkers at the Tibetan Welfare Office.

March 26: TCV “Mela” (essentially a small fair/carnival kind of thing with different booths with games and prizes, etc.)

(April 2: Hike to Triund - a popular trekking spot in this area)

(April 3: Moved in with new family)

—-

SO there you have it! my past month or so in a nutshell..and that’s just all the more major happenings. Add to all of that the wear and tear of daily life: learning to live with new people in a new environment; working in a slum with lots of crazy, yet adorable children; going through various stages of cultural adjustment, etc. All that to say, life here is keeping me quite busy. Nonetheless, I am enjoying my time here and learning so much everyday - about myself, about life, about the people here, about culture and language and tradition and so many other things!

Anywho, that’s all for now. Hopefully more to come soon! (I’ll try to update again before May! haha)

<3 Chrissy Woo

p.s. If you’re interested, here are a couple of links to PHOTOS about some of the stuff above:

Losar (March 2-8) - http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=337613&id=613279133&l=0ad3184653

Weekend in Bir - http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=339762&id=613279133&l=acfe04cf4c

Here in India, there seems to be two things to do: One, visit somewhere where there is something to do, in which case it is automatically a tourist destination, or two, visit somewhere where there is nothing to do except wander. There’s a very strange lack of anything in between these two.

I have been to beautiful places, full of lush tea gardens and wildflowers, and stray cows wandering in between (see: Bir, Dharamkot). In these places, there is absolutely nothing to do after the sun has gone down. But while the sun is shining you could wander along tiny dirt paths for hours, stopping occasionally to sit on a rock and contemplate, watch some children running through fields in the distance, or even talk with an old woman who is spinning wool. At the end of the day, you can search long and hard for a “restaurant,” of which there are very few, and the one you end up at has zero signs or menus but a few forlorn tables. You pop your head into the kitchen to order, and first have what they are serving somehow communicated to you, and second communicate to them what it is you would like to order. Of course, no one there speaks English. The food is greasy but comes piping hot, and is ridiculously cheap.

On the other hand, you could head to a place where there are things to do – ala McLeod Ganj*. During the day and at night, you can always find an open shop or restaurant, and maybe even a concert. You could spend your time in the temple, or visit some famous Tibetan institutions. There is a plethora of delicious eateries at your fingertips (Note: McLeod is really a foodies dream town. I have eaten out here countless, possibly hundreds, of times and I am still discovering new delicious eateries. It’s slightly ridiculous if you think about the per-capita of restaurants here, but mostly I don’t think about this while I am shoveling down hot paranthas and masala chai). But in McLeod, and in most “tourist” spots, you have no space. You can’t ever walk down a street without a destination, lest a thousand men batter you with requests, whether it be to enter their shop or fall madly in love with them (note: which of these requests they are making is sometimes not clear) (second note: they can totally tell when you are walking down the street with no destination. It’s their job to know if you have no destination, and boy are they good at pouncing on that opportunity) (third note: having a destination does not completely cut out the number of men who yell things to you like “hello, you’re beautiful! come to my shop!”).

And so I have decided that while I love living next to a town, a “destination” like McLeod Ganj, where I can eat delicious food all day and night and easily find contact lens solution or any other obscure items, my absolute favorite thing to do is get out of town and wander. Thus far I have only found one place in McLeod Ganj where I truly feel that I can be alone, to just think and be, and not be going or doing anything. I had this crazy idea before I came to Dharamsala* that I was going to this beautiful place at the foothills of the himalayas, and I was going to have all the time and space in the world to just sit on a rock and contemplate existence. I thought that these Tibetan Buddhists would surely have found the key to being able to meditate – and they have, by going into caves for extended periods. You can’t even sit and be alone in holy places here; there are always beggars squatting, and devotees circumambulating while murmuring prayers.

The only real way to get out, to be alone, to have space, to BREATHE here is to leave town and go somewhere where no tourists go. Get out and wander. Walk with no purpose. Just one step, then the next, each step and each breath a meditative practice, focusing your mind and releasing your heart. It’s crazy how that’s almost exactly how it is at home, huh? You have to get out to feel free, like you can breathe and be. Why do you think so many Americans put themselves through the torture of camping every year, or flee to national parks? For some reason I thought this would all be different in India. Weird, huh? It’s like the moment you make somewhere your home, that place loses all capability to provide you relaxation and contemplation. Suddenly it becomes personal and complicated, full of all the struggles that cloud your vision and make you forget that life exists on a far grander scale.

It’s certainly a nice (or not-so-nice) reminder that people all over the world, whether hindu, muslim, buddhist, or jain, are just as far from peace and happiness as I am. Which is pretty dang far. I’m certainly a few lifetimes away, according to Buddhist thought. It depends on how awesome my next reincarnation is, I suppose. That aside, it’s a little sad (with a ray of hope), to discover that most people are just people, and that means that they are messy and complicated and at most only slightly enlightened, no matter how wonderful their religious beliefs. Tibetan Buddhism may emphasize compassion and peace, but most Tibetans are just barely scratching the surface of what that means in their lives. And conversely, Christianity may emphasize faith and grace, but most Christians rarely live out the full extent of these truths in their everyday lives.

I think what really matters, what is really beautiful, is that all these people are seeking.

* Technically, McLeod Ganj is considered Upper Dharamsala, and there is another town called Lower Dharamsala, about a 20 minute bus ride down. Lower Dharamsala is also known by Kotwali Bazaar, which is technically just the name for the center of town – but we won’t get too far into semantics here. Essentially, Dharamsala is what you could call this whole area, but McLeod Ganj is a specific town in the area – the Tibetan-full, tourist-destination town. I should probably mention that I live in another town in between McLeod Ganj and Lower Dharamsala, known as Dharamsala Cantt (short for Canteen, because I live right by a military area).

(a seriously academic post)

by Heather

The entire concept of “being Tibetan” is extremely fascinating. As most of the people I have met here in Dharamsala have never been to Tibet, never even seen it outside of pictures, their definition of themselves as “Tibetan” becomes extremely important. This is particularly true because in order for the Tibetan cause to be esteemed throughout the world and garner international attention, the Tibetan people must work tirelessly to portray themselves as entirely unique from the Chinese and Indians. The problems they run into, however, are that there are recent immigrants coming from Tibet that are less “Tibetan” than the exiles, according to the sort of benchmarks they have set up. So on one hand the exiles strive to cultivate these “Tibetan” attitudes and practices, while those in Tibet often don’t stick so closely to these cultural lines. Adding to this problem is the issue that what the exiles hold up as being “Tibetan” is really only Lhasa Tibetan. There are many different groups of Tibetans within Tibet, and each has its own language that is completely unintelligible to the other (although their writing system is the same). Different parts of Tibet practice different forms of Tibetan Buddhism (despite popular belief, the H.H. the Dalai Lama is actually only the head of one school of Tibetan Buddhism, although esteemed as a powerful lama in all schools). The language and cultural practices that the government-in-exile here in India have adopted are from the Lhasa (most populous) region in Tibet, and under the Gelug school (headed by H.H. the Dalai Lama) of Tibetan Buddhism.

I actually heard a story just a few days ago of a young Tibetan who escaped here to India with his uncle at a young age, from a remote region of Tibet. Here in Dharamsala, he learned Lhasa Tibetan, so when he snuck back into Tibet after graduating from school to visit his family, they could not communicate at all. Stories like this are not uncommon, and are truly tragic. Although the government-in-exile has charged the Tibetan people in exile with maintaining Tibetan culture, they are really only practicing one vein of what it means to be Tibetan. More remote parts of Tibet are undergoing the same cultural genocide that China has put into practice all across Tibet, but their unique culture has a very small chance of surviving past a few generations because there are no Tibetans outside of Tibet to remember or practice their language and other customs.

That was sort of an aside to what I am actually trying to explain here – what it means to “be Tibetan” in exile. This includes the obvious – speaking the (Lhasa) Tibetan language, practicing Tibetan Buddhism, eating Tibetan food, etc. And yet parts of their culture, even of these things, have had to be sacrificed in exile. Many traditional Tibetan foods were based off of yak’s milk or yak meat – here in India, these products can’t be found. The traditional, thick and warm chupas that women and men wear, while passable in Dharamsala, are completely impractical in the rest of hot India. So other aspects of their culture have risen to the forefront of what Tibetan-ness truly is; mainly, their political activism. Any “good Tibetan” will spend a considerable amount of time, effort, and even money in order to further the Tibetan cause. Because of H.H. the Dalai Lama’s emphasis on education, and the availability of foreign sponsorships, many Tibetans these days are getting bachelor’s degrees, if not master’s and Ph.D.’s. These highly educated Tibetans could get high-paying jobs in Indian cities, or seek out employment in Europe or the US. Instead, however, many of them move back to their Tibetan settlements and work for barely minimum wage in political organizations, or at least some sort of Tibetans-helping-Tibetans organization. Here in Dharamsala, getting a job with the Tibetan government-in-exile is of course top pick, but many recent graduates are also clamboring for jobs as teachers at TCV*, office workers at the Tibetan Welfare Office, research assistants at the Tibetan Library, etc.

As I mentioned briefly in the beginning of this explanation, part of how Tibetan culture is defined is in contrast to Indian and Chinese cultures. So while you might imagine that, living in India, many of these Tibetans would have picked up Indian ways of living and thinking, or would have some Indian friends, in fact the opposite is true. Tibetans and Indians, while living together in relative harmony, essentially ignore each other here. Since childhood, every Tibetan has been warned against the hazards of the Indian lifestyle. Most learn not to trust Indians and to avoid making friends with them (exceptions would include those Tibetan students who go to the Indian public schools, but these are few in comparison to the great number that attend TCV or other Tibetan private schools, and these students are generally looked down upon as not as “Tibetan” as students who attend Tibetan schools). Especially for girls, Indian culture is portrayed as restrictive (which is mostly true) and something no reasonable Tibetan girl would ever want to be a part of. So it is interesting that while I sit in my host home and watch Indian TV shows (Jalak Dikkha la Jaa/Dancing with the Stars), they disdain any further involvement in Indian culture than this passive watching. They would never actually vote for a reality TV show, or go out to watch Indian movies, but if it’s on TV they may watch it.

Essentially, “being Tibetan” is not really something that is firmly defined, and yet people here spend tons of energy devoted to becoming “more Tibetan,” and spend copious amounts of time defining others as more/less Tibetan than themselves. People always talk about what a “good Tibetan” should do, and that their daughters should marry “good Tibetan” men. Interestingly enough (and I know this is totally off-topic), but right now I am reading Tolstoy’s What is Art? In the book, Tolstoy discusses how art is one of those things that is not firmly defined, but people sacrifice their whole lives at the altar of art, for a purpose no one seems to agree on or fully know. I can’t help but think the same is at least a little bit true of Tibetan culture. I want to be clear here and say that I don’t think that the whole Tibetan cause is bogus or that they aren’t doing extremely important work here – in the same way that even though “what is art?” isn’t answered, I still think it’s extremely important work. I just think it’s interesting that everyone is so obsessed with an essentially intangible and unexplainable phenomenon – the concept of Tibetan-ness.

*Alyssa pointed out to me that I have been using the acronym TCV rather freely on this blog and never stopped to explain what it means; TCV = Tibetan Children’s Village. Essentially a school for Tibetan children, but it also boards many orphans year-round, has a post-graduation handicrafts training program, a health center, a bakery and a restaurant, an animal clinic, and a family health and wellness center (my best guess as to what they actually do there is family counseling). All of these offices and homes are spread out on the side of a mountain, connected by roads and crazy staircases, essentially making this “TCV Mountain.” Most of the people who work for TCV also live on TCV property, because they basically get paid very little, and renting a home on TCV land is really cheap (in comparison to living elsewhere).

(this is Heather)

I realized it was high time that I told you guys about my family that I am living with here. As an everyday constant part of my life, they have of course played a big part in my transition to life in Dharamsala. Overall, it’s been a wonderful experience and I am loving living here. Whenever the two boys aren’t climbing all over me or hitting me with pillows, that is.

Part I. All Moms Eat Broccoli.

Palkyi, my host mom, is a nurse. In many ways she reminds me of my own mommy, because she is always dispensing advice to me about the healthy properties of this vegetable or fruit. Interestingly enough, all those “conversations” with my mom about this recent study on the healing properties of (insert tropical name here) root have come into handy because it has formed a bridge of conversation for Palkyi and I. We also like to talk about how all the chemicals that come in everything these days give you cancer. See mom, just like you and me! :)

Part II. Two Degrees of Separation from the Dalai Lama, Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon.

Lobsang, my host dad, is the DALAI LAMA’S DRIVER. That’s right folks, I am only two degrees away from the fantastic Dalai Lama himself. In fact, there is a framed photo of Lobsang and some of his co-workers with the Dalai Lama in our living room. I should probably note that this photo has its own light installed, and is right next to an even BIGGER photo of the Dalai Lama that is draped with a white scarf (the white scarf, kata, in tibetan culture is given to someone in respect). Every Tibetan home or establishment has one of these scarf-draped photos, I should mention. But that’s beside the point – Lobsang is a great host dad, and actually does most of the cooking around here because he is a fantastic cook! He doesn’t speak English except a very little, so most of our interactions are him asking me if I want more food (more? tea?), or me telling him how good the food was in broken tibetan (kala shimbu du!), or us making faces at the kids when they are too crazy.

Part III. A Regular Tom Sawyer.

Norbu, the elder son, is a typical 8-year-old boy in many ways. He is mischevious, often naughty, and loves to roam the TCV neighborhood with his little gang of friends, causing trouble wherever they go. He is also addicted to playing Snood on my computer. I haven’t showed him World of Goo yet, for fear that I will never get to write any of my GLT papers. Actually, I had to password protect my computer to keep him from sneaking it out whenever I wasn’t looking. Note: this has not stopped him from constantly taking my computer out and trying to guess the password when I am not looking. Probably my best interactions with Norbu happen every night, when he has to do his “English reading.” Palkyi asked me to help him read English books that he gets from the library, and this has been a fun experience so far, reading about Aladdin, The Lion King, and a hybrid monkey/bunny called a Bunkey.

Part IV. Goo-phel?

Ghaphel, the younger son, is only 3 years old, although he is about the size of a 5-year-old. I constantly have to remind myself that he is so young, because he doesn’t look like it. And since I can’t understand what he’s saying most of the time anyways, I have no idea that he doesn’t always know what he’s saying either! Sometimes I’ll ask Palkyi what he is saying, and she’ll tell me “Nothing! He is just saying sounds to be silly.” And indeed, he is a very silly little boy. He is naughty and stubborn just like his older brother – but I think that like every other younger sibling, many times he is just imitating Norbu. Of course, he has also learned to put charm on his side, and many times he is just too dang cute to reprimand – even while he is pummeling my face with a pillow or stealing my toothbrush. To which my question is always: Why? Why do you want my toothbrush? And his silent answer comes in a shriek and laughter: PAY ATTENTION TO ME! Good thing I got a practice round here from Emily Goo.

Sorry I have been so terrible at updating you guys on my life here in Dharamsala!

This is a little old (like a week), but taken straight from my journal so it was easier than writing something new, haha

In the last two days, I contracted an indian stalker and had lunch with a crazy indian man with short term memory loss. It has been quite interesting, to say the least. I just haven’t done very well on the making-friends-with-normal-people front.

Yesterday I went down to Mcleod Ganj to buy a cell phone and meet up with Chrissy. I got a ride from one of the staff members at TCV, on his motorcycle – my first motorcycle ride! It was actually less scary than I thought it would be, and a beautiful ride down the mountain. After I got to Mcleod, Chrissy and I met up and I bought a phone, we did some shopping, and had some really good momos (tibetan dumplings) and tukpa (tibetan soup). I also got to see her place, which is really nice and has an incredible view.

It was funny because as Chrissy and I were relating our experiences so far, she was very jealous of the fact that I already had a family and got free tea all day (seriously, one of the best parts of this country), while I was really jealous that she had so much space and time to herself! Living with two boys who are 8 and 3 really doesn’t leave you much privacy. Anyways, we both saw the bright side in the others’ situation.

After we parted ways, I caught the bus back to the TCV Handicrafts center, where I live. On the bus I met this nice kid from TCV, who helped me figure out when to get off the bus, etc. We walked back together and he asked for my cell number… yeah you all know where this is going. Anyways he called me like twice last night and then kept texting me things like “I love you I love you I love you headher why don you ans me?” and then one REALLY creepy text that said “Are you sleep? I cant sleep only tink of you I love you.”

So… yeah.

I thought since he was Tibetan he may not be creepy aggressive like Indian men, but then my host mom told me that his name is an Indian name, so he may have been lying about the whole TCV thing. I don’t know and at this point I really don’t care. Just go away! >.<

So that was yesterday. Today I decided to walk all the way down to Mcleod, and take my camera because I hadn’t taken any photos of the area yet. It was a really nice walk and didn’t take very long… especially since it was downhill. I don’t think I would want to walk UP here from Mcleod. On my walk I saw monkeys for the first time, and an awesome church called St. John’s in the Wilderness. I love that its name is “in the wilderness.” Also, it had a totally amazing cemetary. I am a sucker for old mossy graves, that’s for sure!

In town, I found myself a nice internet cafe and did some writing for GLT. Boring stuff. Then I walked around a bit more, did some exploring, and headed to the bus stop. I stopped and asked one of the men waiting there if the bus for TCV was coming soon. Turns out, this guy is totally crazy and has short-term memory loss. And was really funny. He sat next to me on the bench, talking my ear off about a lot of stuff I couldn’t understand… but I could tell that about every 10 minutes he would say the exact same things. And ask me the same questions. After about half an hour waiting there, I decided to stay in Mcleod for lunch, and tried to bid him adieu… but he insisted that he would take me to the BEST tea and momos in town. Since he was entertaining, I obliged him. He ended up taking me to the TCV cafe, which was highly ironic. Anyways by this point he was singing me all kinds of indian songs and pretending to take pictures of me, and on the walk back to the bus stop he tried to tell all these people I was his wife, which brought everyone to tears, including me! Then all these kids from punjab wanted to take their picture with me… the usual…

On the bus ride on the way back to TCV, the other passengers told me he is a drunk. Which makes a lot of sense.

One thing I miss for sure: guys my age who aren’t out for something “extra.” Guys back home, if you’re reading this: I appreciate you 100% more after this trip. Here, the only people it’s easy to be friends with are guys my age (because they are constantly calling out to you, trying to make conversation, and get you to buy their stuff, or fall madly in love, or whatever it is they want), but they are all totally creepsters and think all western women are “loose,” to put it nicely. So hanging out with sane, nice guys is at the top of my list of things I miss most about home.

SO, while I am sure some of you may be excited to finally see photos of the actual apartment I have been living in the past couple of weeks, this post is actually to bid my apartment farewell. While I am not quite moving in with a family yet (still waiting for April), I will be moving to a different place for the next month or so where I will live with a man from the Tibetan Welfare Office, his girlfriend, and his father.

Anywho, instead of just telling you guys how I am feeling about leaving this apartment, I decided to write my apartment a farewell letter. My hope is that these photos and the following letter may capture what the past couple of weeks have been like for me living on my own in this apartment.

my room:

entry way:

bathroom:

“sitting room”/living room?:

…And that’s my apartment! (I also have a small kitchen, which I didn’t use because I don’t have any pots or pans or anything to cook with…so I figured I didn’t need to take a picture of that). So yea…now, the letter of farewell:

My dear apartment,

I am sad to say that our time together is coming to an end. While it has barely even been two weeks since we met, I feel as if we have become great friends. In no other place have I so quickly felt a sense of being home. Accordingly, I will never forget my first two weeks in Dharamsala spent with you. I will forever cherish the peace and small sense of stability you provided for me at the start of this tumultuous adventure. While I am quite looking forward to living with other people, I will dearly miss the solitude and time to reflect while taking in every second of sunset. I truly have seen no other view as magnificent as what I have seen from your balcony during the past couple of weeks. While I will not miss the surprised looks from my neighbors to discover that one would live in such a large place, much less live alone in such a space, I will truly miss seeing the beautiful smiles of some of the hermits who live here whenever I would pass by and say, “Tashi Delek”.

Yes, I really was beginning to get used to living here, but now I must say good-bye. It is time for me to move on, to live with locals, and to learn more about what it is like to truly live in and be part of this community. SO, farewell my dear apartment. You will be missed dearly and forever hold a small place in my heart along with the many other places I have come to call home over the years. As short and temporary as our time may have been, you have indeed earned the title of home.

In our time together you have helped me learn to be on my own and to take care of myself. Perhaps the last lesson you have to teach me is how to let go and move on with gratitude, grace, and a renewed sense of adventure to embrace whatever may meet me on the road ahead.

Ka-lee shu (good-bye),

Chrissy