450+ km of Himalayan Roads

So I ended up leaving Leh in a packed jeep full of guides for a large group of French tourists. Three people including myself were in the front row, while three were in the back. The guy who had the middle seat in the front row did not have any legroom available, so he and I shared the footbed of my passenger seat for the 16 total hours we were in that jeep, winding through unpaved roads and negotiating rivers and ditches.

I mentioned in an earlier post that passing through Kargil was going to be a problem, and it sure as hell was. We stopped at a gas station just before Kargil to come up with a plan. We decided it would be best if I hopped into a bus that was also stopped at that gas station and heading for Zanskar. "Don't worry about luggage. We follow close behind," my driver told me. I was really hoping I wasn't going to eat those words. So I grabbed my passport, money, and other essentials, and got into this crammed bus. The aisle was nonexistent - it was filled with bags and people laying on top of those bags. I managed to hang out for a while near the doorway, and eventually found space for a seat near the front. We took off from the gas station, and within 5 minutes, we stopped to let people out at the Kargil city center. I didn't have visibility at that point to look at the window and see if my jeep and luggage were still close behind. After 20 min, we left, and to no surprise the jeep was not behind us. I anticipated that they might have driven up ahead and planed on meeting me some distance after Kargil. For about an hour we rolled through the Kargil area, zipping past the taxi/tourist checkpoint, and I had not one sight of my jeep. The ride in the bus wasn't as bad as I expected. Although it was crammed and insanely uncomfortable, it was a true cultural experience - so I enjoyed it.

Meeting the entrance of a beautiful valley leading towards the Zanskar mountains, the bus finally stopped. I was convinced my jeep was going to be parked here, but it wasn't (who am I kidding?). I started asking the bus's passengers who were taking some fresh air and stretching their legs if they knew Tenzig, my driver. I eventually met a man named Targus who had his cell number. Targus called Tenzig, and afterwords reassured me they were on there way. In 15 min I was reunited with my jeep (and my pack), and we headed off.

I was relived to be back in my new seat, now appreciating the added comfort I at once took for granted. Continuing on through this lush, mountainous, colorful valley, I witnessed some of the most beautiful sights of my life. Granted, my head was banging on the roof of the car every 20 seconds, and pictures became impossible, yet I will cherish the memory of the experience forever. After some time, however, our car had enough. We got a flat tire (about time, actually). With 6 capable passengers, the tire was replaced with a spare in all of 10 min. No problem.

An hour later, we popped the spare at the foot of a glacier. This time, we were screwed. The temperatures there were unbearable due to the wind running off of the glacier, and we were stranded. We spent about 2 hours waiting for help while trying to remove the tube from the tire. Eventually, a truck rolled by, and Tensig and one other passenger hopped in. Tenzig instructed the rest of us to ride with the very same bus I rode earlier that day. The bus was headed for Rangdum (half-way between Kargil and Zanskar), and even after a punishing day of driving (about 14 hours), Rangdum was still 3 hours away. The remaining four of us huddled by a large rock to block from the wind for another 30 min, and sure enough, the bus appeared in our view. We joined the passengers with all of our luggage, and soon realized the only room was in the back two rows. I took a deep breath and climbed through the luggage and pile of bodies to the back row, all in the pitch black darkness. I found my seat, which was wedged in between two old Tibetans.

I discovered a new level of discomfort in those three hours. In fact, looking back on it, I can't believe I made it without throwing up. The passengers of this old, rickety metal bus got tossed around like popcorn. I myself sustained several bruises from the ride. I managed to keep a mental state of denial, which was the only way I anticiapted surviving the ordeal. When the bus finnally rolled to a stop, the passengers and I had a good laugh. What the hell where we doing in that bus?

The day wasn't over for me and my fellow travellers from Leh. Arriving in Rangdum, a calm, gray valley packed with tall, jagged peaks, we were still about 2 miles from our campground. So we loaded up, and after 17 hours of driving, trekked in the pitch black darkness to our campgrounds. Along the way we were followed by a large, black, wild horse, who was really upset that we were trekking through it's territory. Thankfully, my flashlight kept it at least 10 feet from us at all times! Once we finally made it to camp, I was spent, but still slightly removed, for I knew the journey wasn't over yet.

The next morning I awoke to find Tenzig and our old jeep, as well as an identical jeep driven by another guide for this large group of French tourists (still in Kargil). I felt relived; we now had two identical jeeps heading for the same location - we were going to be just fine. Boy, did I eat those words. Our second jeep broke down 8 times on the way to Padum. Each time, we had to get out of our car and push this beast up and over mountains passes, getting an ignition while it rolled down the rocky slopes. The jeep finally gave out compeltely 1 km from Padum, and we had to rig a tow for it. When we finally made it, I noted the odometers of the jeeps: 300,000 km each. Jesus Christ!

Promise of Leaving for Zanskar

It looks like I've got a promising opportunity to leave for Zanskar tomorrow - Sonam arranged a private jeep with one of his friends. The good news about this ride is that because it is a privatly owned car driven by locals from Zanskar, we won't have any problems getting through the tourist/taxi checkpoints in Kargil. Another good reason for going with this group is that they will avoid the city of Kargil altogether, driving an extra 60km up the road to stay in a "beautiful Zanskar village." Even more so, they will actually drop me at the Zangla monastery, thus saving me a day. I will be in contact with this group today and arrange a time to leave tomorrow morning. Hopefully this will pan out!

The only bad news is that it looks like I might have to cancel my trek out of the monastery and itstead drive out via jeep (it is much easier to arrange a ride from Zanskar). This extra week I have spent in Leh was the amount of time I allotted for a trek. Now that this time has passed, that leaves me a very short period of time to live with and teach the nuns. This is my own personal decision, for I feel it is much more beneficial to spend a week in a monastery than a week trekking. Those mountains aren't going anywhere.

Grounded in Leh

I arrived in Leh on the 3rd, and since then I've tried to make provisions to get to Zanskar. My contact here in Leh, Sonam, has his own private "loadcarrier" to travel there. He's been meaning to go to Zanskar to visit his family, and we figured we'd travel together. His estimated departure time was the 6th or 7th, although his work has seriously delayed his plans. In the meantime, Norbu and I have been looking for an alternative, asking people around town as well as Norbu's own friends and relatives.

Getting to the Zanskar mountains currently requires passing through the city of Kargil. Ladakh has two districts, Kargil District and Leh District, or, West and East. Kargil is mostly Muslim, while Leh is Buddhist. The people of the Zanskar mountains are Buddhist, however, and the administration of Kargil is not too thrilled about having them in their district. Kargil has made it nearly impossible to get to Zanskar without paying the taxi union of Kargil heaping tons of money. Since transportation throughout the district is leagally under their control, nothing can really be done about this.

So this is how it pans out. There are three "classes" of vehicles that I have encountered: passenger cars and taxis, buses, and loadcarriers (privately owned "Indian Hummers"). For the last few days, Norbu and I have been looking for a passenger car for me to hitch a ride with, but due to recent information, we have discovered Kargil District will now stop even privately owned cars that simply resemble taxis, looking for the tourists to fork out the cash. We have now abandoned this possibility. That leaves buses and loadcarriers. Buses have been leaving 3 or 4 times a week, but the ride will surely take years off of my life. The buses, unregulated by the Kargil taxi union, are so unbelievable packed and the drive is nonstop (20 hours) through the bumpy roads of Ladakh. Even Norbu, a Zanskar native, has only used this option once, and it was when he was in elementary school with his class. This is going to be the absolute last option for me. Although they are perfectly safe, I will probably be pretty crabby for some time after the ride.

Sonam's travel agency owns a loadcarrier for the drive to Zanskar. Sonam is quite determined to go to Zanskar, as his wife who resides there is very sick. He is so overloaded with responisiblity here in Leh that he is finding it very difficult to make the trip. He has encouraged me that he is leaving very soon, and it looks like I might just have to wait. Another option that has presented itself is to possibly trek to Zanskar with Norbu, although Norbu may not be available for this. Tonight we are going to look at all of my options, and figure out the best way to get to the monastery in Zanskar. This predicament has surely been challenging and has tested my patience on a number of occasions, but the prospect of peace and serenity in Zanskar is too hard to shake.

Second Day In Leh, Cultural Explosion Ensues

After a full day of rest at the guest house, my contact here in Leh, Sonam, accompanied me to his travel agency office. There I met his associates, who were extremely friendly, local Ladakhis, most of them born and raised in the remote Zanskar mountains (the location of the monastery I will be living at). Norbu, Sonam's nephew, offered to show me around Leh. An incredibly charasmatic man, Norbu took me through the back alleys of Leh, showing me the city in full and offering hilarious commentary along the way (one of the most memorable points of the tour...the Leh "ice rink" which currently resembles the Lousiana Bayou). Once back in the vicinity of the office, Norbu offered me lunch with the rest of the travel agency office. I happliy obliged, at which point he took me up to the second story storage closet for all of their camping gear. Immediately he explained that they usually cook lunch up there because the price is right and it is much more hygenic than Leh's restuarants. And immediately I thought: "More hygenic? I'm in a dusty storage closet and we are making food on a camping stove!" Norbu made a crack that Rigzin, one of the other office workers, was their special cook. Rigzin rolled his eyes and continued stirring the pots. Another man was cutting a cucumber nearby, and when he finished, he threw the knife across the room where it stuck firmly to the wall. "Can you believe he's married?!" Norbu exclaimed. We all had a good laugh at that. Another man, the very large Dorjey, walked in, joining us for goat and spinach on rice. Dorjey looked at me for some time, and then asked, "so where's girlfriend?" We all laughed. He then asked how old I was. When I told him I was 18 he was very suprised. "Very young! Very young!" he said. We introduced ourselves and talked for a long time in short, simple English.

Norbu said to meet back at 6:30 at the office for dinner, so I went off on my way and headed back to the guest house. Strolling back there was confusing to say the least - that was the first time in my life I went in a complete circle while being lost (since then I've come to know Leh quite well, however). I spent some time studying my maps when I arrived back to my room, and I was rewarded on my return back to the office at 6:30. Norbu then took me to the main street of Leh, which is covered by shops of every kind. Unknowingly, Norbu gave me a crash course on Ladakhi culture in about 15 minutes flat. He purchased local, organic vegetables from an old woman on the main bazar, where she weighed them by hand on a scale that's probably been in her family for generations. Then he took me down a side street and took a hard right into some alleyway I didn't even notice. What we entered was a fruit and vegetable crater - a market unlike anything I had ever seen. The freshest produce, combined with the "back alley" feel made this the coolest way to purchase food that I had ever seen. We left and headed off for his place. Some half mile from the office was his quaint Ladakhi appartment. Norbu introduced me to his landlord, an old Ladakhi schoolteacher probably 60 years of age. She didn't know a word of English, but that didn't stop us from having tea with her. She offered me endless, and I mean endless, cups of tea. At this point I used my first bit of Ladakhi: "dik dik, jule" or "That's enough, thank you." (On a side note, I am attempting to learn the language). The room was very small, with oriental carpets lining the floor. Norbu left to begin making dinner. When the woman's husband arrived, he flipped out that there was an American in his home. He ran around, looking for things to offer me. He opened a drawyer and pulled out a handful of pink candies, juxtaposed to his old, labored hands. I took one, and he said "don don" or "eat eat". It was actually quite tasty. He began to poor me more tea. His wife said something along the lines of "he doesn't want anymore tea" of which he replied, "I'm am going to give him more tea." Sonam then walked in and saw me sitting by myself with this old Ladakhi couple, with tea cups and pink candy wrappers on the table. He laughed for a long time and then walked away shaking his head sighing, "oh boy." The Ladakhi woman then began making her dinner, cutting vegetables on a cutting board placed on the floor. The smell of those fresh vegetables filled the entire room. She also began rolling some dough for who knows what. Sonam then came in and joined us, and he and I began discussing "Ladakhi politics" for some time. In short, Sonam mentioned that India feels more threatened by China than Pakistan (in regards to the Jammu and Kashmir region), and the Indian army prescense in Ladakh is twice that of the Ladakhi population. He also feels the Indian democracy "lacks control" and that the money is not being distrubted properly throughout the entire country's people. In Ladakh, however, this is not a problem. All Ladakhis are self sufficent; from rich to poor, everyone can basically take care of themselves by tending to their homes, crops, and livestock. Even still, the rich-poor gap in Ladakh is practically nonexistent. Beggars in Ladakh are not Ladakhis, they are central and south Indians who migrate there during the summer/tourist months. On another note, the government of India also set up a "judicial system" in Zanskar, and cancelled it after one year because there was not a single reported crime of any kind. What an amazing place this is!

Norbu then called Sonam and I in for dinner, which was some kind of tomato chicken thing over rice with some lentils on the side. He also brought some of his landlord's dinner, tukpa, which is a traditional Ladakhi soup containing vegetables and noodles. So I ate this soup containing vegetables just picked and cut and noodles just rolled out and cooked. It was the best soup of my life. The food is unbelievably fresh here. Norbu told me I will have tukpa very frequently at the monastery in Zanskar. After dinner, Norbu walked me back in the pitch black darkness to my guesthouse. This was all one day, June 4th, and only my second day in this magnificent place. Since then I have had many days just like it. Whether it's been at a dark and dingy Kashmiri eatery or through the back alleys of Leh, these people have accompained me by their own accord. The hospitaity here is immense. I think it helps that I am basically a free bird here in Leh - I'm young and open-minded. They took me in because they felt they could share their cultue with me. I am not having the typical tourist experience here in Leh. I'm actually living the life of a local, and it's just getting started.

Photos of Leh: Market, Old Town, and Downtown Leh

One of Leh's vibrant markets
(people pictured here are Indian tourists, not Ladakhis)

Old Town

Downtown Leh

Getting to Leh, Ladakh

I eagerly anticipated the flight to Leh, because getting to Leh by air requires flying over the Himalayas. I'm at a loss for words about what I saw out the window of that plane. I wanted to parachute out the back and start trekking right there. Landing in Leh was no easy feat - the pilot ended up pulling a fast downward "J" onto the runway, in a narrow valley of the surrounding mountains. My contact in Leh picked me up at the "airport" and took me to a comfortable guest house run by a very hospitable Ladakhi family. I took it easy there for a full day, acclimating to 12,000 feet by hanging out at the rooftop restaurant, drinking tea, and admiring the enormous mountain landscape. Leh is easily the most remote, authentic place I have been to in my entire life, yet I know my environment will only continue to become more remote as I move deeper into the mountains.

Arrived in Delhi

After 20 hours of flight time I've finally made it to Delhi. My contact in Delhi, a native Ladakhi, eagerly awaited my arrival at the airport and drove me to the World Buddhist Center, where I will stay until I fly out to Leh tomorrow morning. Let me just begin by saying that Delhi makes downtown New York City look like the Japanese Tea Garden. The rules of the road are merely optional here. A parked car in the middle of a highway or a bicycle riding against the flow of traffic is not uncommon. Red lights will result in a swarm of people around the stopped cars looking for quick sales. This place is a true free-for-all, but surely a sight to be seen. I am grateful for having a prearranged contact, for I would not have been able to enjoy the experience had I been in control of the situation.