Hiking in the Mountains

I so often wish I had the words to describe the scenes that I behold here. Some of them are so serene, so amazing that I just wish I had the ability to paint them, to capture the scene for a moment. But I am neither a poet nor a painter, so I suppose these feeble words will have to suffice.

4 am is an interesting time to be up. I have to admit right away that I had never seen McLeod at this hour before. The sky was full of stars, the moon casting a low, glowing light upon the road before me and the sky had cleared up from the storm the night before. Once again I was embarking on a journey, unsure of exactly where I was going. All I knew was that my family said we were going to a beautiful place and we had to leave at 4 in the morning.

After about a 5 hour trek I wondered where in the world we were going. There was nine of us (my two brothers, sister, the three kids, a cousin and a monk) and we’d been slowing climbing and climbing the whole time. We could see the buildings of McLeod, Dharamsala, and Bhagsu in the distance. I remember thinking, man this better be worth it. And as the pictures will hopefully show, it totally was.

Not only was the green, green land and rock around us just stunning, but the glorious, thundering mountains still covered in snow just a short distance away really made the sight worth it. The not so distant mountains are so high that clouds would often pass by and cover them for a time.

When we arrived, my family immediately began setting up a fire. It really is amazing how we as kids will try to learn how to build fires. My family did it with such ease and so quickly… Our ways of life have produced such different abilities. As the fire was going I whipped out my Frisbee. The young 10 year old boy immediately jumped up, as well as several other members of the family and we began to toss it around. Now I’ve played Frisbee I don’t know how many times, but I don’t know that I’ve ever laughed just so much. Watching a grown man in monk’s clothing try to learn how to throw the Frisbee, watching the 10 year old just laugh and laugh as he made fun of the older guys. We tossed it around, trying to avoid the sheep and goats parading around. How unique and enjoyable these simple moments are- the collision of our two cultures, our two very differing worlds!

Amdo Party

So I often don’t really know what I’m getting myself into when I agree to go to something with someone, particularly when I agree to go to some event with a Tibetan who only speaks limited English. Often I think I know what I am agreeing to, but I am learning quickly that I often really don’t. However, it has so far always been not only an adventure, but a fun adventure to have such “miscommunications.”

So I knew I was going to an “Amdo Party,” but I really had no idea what that meant. I knew that it was down the mountain a ways, but had no idea how far or where. So I really had no idea what else either of those details meant. After an interesting taxi ride, we ended up in a “valley” of sorts that looked like the pictures of the Amdo region of Tibet (which was fitting for the “Amdo Party”). As we get closer I could see a huge tent and I assumed that’s where we were going. As we got closer the whole thing collapsed from the wind and rain. We quickly joined the huddle of people under rocks and blankets. People were shouting woohoo! Yippee! And all other kinds of encouraging phrases at the rain, including one particular man who shouted, “Come on! Is that all you’ve got?!” People were just laughing and having a great time huddled together, a few even running through the rain shouting praises. As the rain died down I realized there were still people in the tent. A small child, who looked Tibetan from where I sat, popped out and said, “Mummy, do you think it’s going to stop now?” with a perfect English accent I might add. When all of this occurred within the first ten minutes and I knew I was in for a treat.

So let’s start at the beginning with what an “Amdo Party” entailed, at least an “Amdo Party” in India, which included a few other guests not from Amdo. This party was almost all Tibetans from the Amdo region. The only exceptions seemed to be myself, an English woman (who married a Tibetan man more than 15 years ago, whom she had met in McLeod Ganj, India), and her two sons who were born in England (although they have half Amdo blood, so even they could in some ways). The place was chosen because it could at least remind them of aspects of Amdo. The party consisted of things we would often find at parties at home: tons of food, some alcohol, games being played, swimming, and lots and lots of chatting. But two particular moments were quite different, at least for me.

The first was the “talent game?” I’m not really sure what to call it, but the point of it was that eventually everyone had to embarrass themselves in front of everyone else. One man started by putting a kahta (white scarf, stole, shawl… whatever you choose to call it) around his neck and then he began to sing a traditional Tibetan song. After he finished he said a few things in Tibetan and then put the kahta around someone else’s neck. That person got a little shy and everyone clapped, cheered and seemed to be giving this new “kahta wearing” the encouragement (or pressure, depending on the way you look at it) to do as the previous man had and perform. It was quite a fun game to watch. Most people sang, and some for quite a bit, a few played instruments or danced, etc, but pretty much everyone sang. Many people, especially the women were very hesitant to go. The normal “name cheer,” or yelling the person’s name over and over (Tashi, Tashi, Tashi!), happened often, and persisted until the person finally got up the courage to go. Eventually, even I had to… and don’t ask how long it took to coax me into singing a song in front of everyone…

The second part was the water part. It’s normal to have swimming at parties right? And it’s even normal to have people thrown into the water. But what about EVERY single person at the party? And even if they had to chase them down through fields to get them in the water? Literally, and I mean literally, every single person at the party (and we’re talking probably at least… 50 people?) was caught, dragged, and thrown into the small body of water we had (which by the way, was some of the clearest water I’ve ever seen in India). It was an absolute ball watching grown men sneak around to capture those who were dry. They would get this sly smile on their face and they were running around just like the little kids. They even got the monk, who avoided them for quite a long time, into the water.

After they dunked the “inji” (foreigner in Tibetan) a Tibetan laughed and said, “Now you’ve been Christened!” I’m not exactly sure what he meant, but I almost felt like I could feel like I’d been “Christened a Tibetan partier” after these two party events took place.

Oh, and just in case we forgot we were in India, there was the giant water container? with Hindi script on it.

My name is Khan, my name is Rita, my name is Tenzin

I sit on my balcony looking out over the town with my brother and sister with a soap opera in the background, as I realize how content I am with my day, which consisted of teaching, reading, writing, studying, eating at a restaurant, going to class, and watching a movie at a cinema. Sounds like a fairly typical day. But when the finer details are filled in, a much different picture comes into view.

I sit on a tiled balcony looking out over the town (that we share with our neighbors, which overlooks the mountains of McLeod Ganj and the Kangra Valley) with my Tibetan brother and sister with a Chinese soap opera dubbed in Tibetan in the background, as I realize how content I am with my day, which consisted of teaching English to my Tibetan brother and sister, reading, writing, studying, eating at a Tibetan restaurant playing American pop music, going to a Hindi language class taught by a native speaker, and watching a Hindi movie (about a Hindu woman who marries a Muslim man and the problems they have in post 9/11 America) at a homemade cinema which consisted of about 20 elevated chairs and a projector on a wall. Maybe this sounds a little less typical, but it really isn’t that uncommon to have such a day in my current place of residence, McLeod Ganj, India.

The US has been called a multicultural melting pot. I would not disagree and I’m very proud to come from that multicultural melting pot. But McLeod Ganj is also a multicultural melting pot, though one that is so different than what most people think of as a “melting pot.” I wish I could describe just how multicultural this place is. But no matter how hard I tried, I know I could never do the description justice.

By first glance, you’ll notice there are three “major groups” of people- Indian, Tibetan, and Western. But upon further investigation you find out that these are not the only “groups” that live in this community. You find native Indians and displaced Indians (many coming from other regions of India where droughts and famines have hit the people hard); you’ll also find 2nd generation Indian-born Tibetans and Tibetans freshly arrived from the Himalayas just mere weeks ago; throw some western tourists, backpackers, yoga instructors, Buddhist practitioners, and yes, even a few students, and you may be able to have a small vision of what McLeod looks like. While walking down one of the roads you could hear a Bob Marley song coming from one of the restaurants, walk a bit further ahead and hear a Bollywood soundtrack, to which a young Indian and/or Tibetan may be singing along to; and walk just a bit further and you may hear the monks performing a pooja ceremony down at the temple, or an elderly Tibetan chanting “Om Mani Padme Hum.” You can see the prayer beads of a praying Buddhist, the cap of a devout Muslim, the bindi on the forehead of a devote Hindu, or the cross of a Christian, all within minutes of each other.

The world has often looked to the US to see a multicultural society in action. But after seeing Tibetan and Indian children playing on the road together, after hearing Hindi, Tibetan, and English all being used for one market transaction, after hearing Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, and Christian prayers all come from the same small area, I can’t help but wonder if there are other places to look to understand multicultural societies.