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.
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.
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