10 July - 12 July
By now, my host and I were
getting considerably on each other’s nerves.
I am still unsure why she did not like me, but her passive-aggressive
manner of telling me so was irritating.
The first week of volunteering went well (in hindsight, because my host
was sick in bed, and did not get my way much), but the second was far less
fun. By the end, I was counting the days before I
would be done. But, I did have a greenhouse project to finish, and I am definitely not one to does not finish. Plus, I could not
move very far, as I had new volunteering starting the following week (not to mention, I
was getting good food and board for free).
My first hint that she did not
see me as too valuable, was her mentioning – out of the blue – during one of
our meals, that if I wanted to, I
could leave two days early. Her reason being tjat I had started two days early. Subtle, and bitchy. Until then, I (had mistakenly) thought things
were going swimmingly.
For the reasons already mentioned, I stuck around, and subtle, became more overt. Also, I do not think that this change coinciding with
the same time as her friend (and new business partner) arriving at the homestay was only a coincidence.
The first new change, was that I was asked not to come into the
kitchen anymore (which I had been invited into by the host on the first day, and had eaten all my meals there
for the last week, seemingly without a problem). Their reason was that this was where they
slept too and now felt they needed more privacy. The second “subtle” sign I
was no longer wanted was that I was moved into the guests’ dorms, out of the staff,
private room where I had been staying.
The excuse here was that a new, female volunteer was arriving. Fair enough, I thought, but the new partner
then also mentioned, as if in passing, that I would need to sleep in the common
room if they needed the bed for guests (fat chance).
They then started commenting on
how they felt the work in the greenhouse should have been completed in one day,
although nothing was mentioned in the previous 6 days I had been working on
it. Finally, as if they felt I was not getting
the message, they just didn’t serve breakfast one day (I am supposed to get breakfast,
as part of the volunteering).
When I enquired, at 10:30am, if there would be any breakfast, I received a
begrudging answer that they were making it, and would be ready soon.
On the same day, lunch also just never came, and at 15:30, again after
enquiring (and after working all day in the greenhouse), they indicated that they
had decided to change their meal plan to 2 meals a day – brunch and dinner - it
was more healthy. Thanks for the heads up (bitches).
 |
| A pretty damn good job I think |
The next day, you can now understand
that I was over the moon, when the host approached me and asked if I
wanted to leave (read – fired), because I seemed to not be enjoying myself (read - because I was damn hungry for starters). Respectfully, and with
as much tact as I could muster, I accepted the offer, briefly explained my
reasons, and was off as quick as I could.
With my new freedom, and a few
days before my new volunteering started, I had an opportunity to explore the
surrounds of the Spiti valley. My first
stop was the destination I missed, to ditch Princess and my previous travelling
partners. I heard also, that the
monastery had accommodation available. I
caught the bus, which only left in the evening. So, while I found the dorm rooms
that they provided, the old monastery had closed.
 |
| Monastery guesthouse |
 |
| Tabo from the roof of the Monastery guesthouse |
In the morning, I went to see the
monks pray (puja), and attempt yoga. You
would think that all monks were yoga masters, but maybe these were new monks,
because they were far from dignified or proficient in their attempts to mimic
the yoga teacher. Something felt off that a western yoga teacher was trying to show monks how to do yoga.
 |
| Monks "trying" to do yoga, Tabo monastery |
Nevertheless, it was then a short
trek up the mountains, to see the caves that monks used. The cave network forms part of the old
monastery in Tabo, until a few years ago, it was the oldest still-operating
monastery in India (originally built in 996AD). #welearningwhilehavingfun.
 |
| Cave network above Tabo |
 |
Check the glorious beard on that stud.
Oh, and there are some old caves, Tabo |
The old monastery is the
highlight of the small village, as it still has paintings, murals, and statues
still preserved from when it was first built.
One is not permitted to take photos inside, but it is really something
to see. It is incredible how these are
still intact and preserved after such time, and (apparently) they have not been
restored or touched up. The main chamber
has 3D statues of gods protruding from the walls, the whole room is dressed in
colourful material, and there are paintings from wall to ceiling depicting
gods, and other cultural scenes. The
other chamber that they open up (also with photography prohibited) has a 3m
high buddha statue. Amazing to think
that over 1000 years ago, they could create, construct, and beautify, in such
detail.
 |
| The entrance to the old monastery, Tabo |
 |
| Courtyard of the old monastery, Tabo |
That pretty much is Tabo though,
and by 10am, I had seen what it had to offer.
I was planning to go to Dhankar, a small village on the road back to
Kaza, but the bus only arrived somewhere around 14:30 (times though cannot be given
precisely: (1) because it is India (2) the busses are travelling some of the
most insane mountain ways, and can be stopped or slowed for many reasons).
With nothing better to do, I
decided to try my luck at hitching.
There was only 1 road, so if cars were going the right direction, they
would be able to take me, at least part of the way. For 2 hours I had no luck, and at 1pm decided
to call lunch. Full from a seriously
good thali, I resumed my attempt, and to my luck, a van pulled up. Three Israelis who had bought a van, and were
travelling through north India in it, and were actually on their way to
Dhankar.
 |
Getting into a van with strangers.
Lesson learnt - ignore everything your parents say |
They turned out to be great guys,
typically Israeli – fresh out the army, stereotype, stereotype, stereotype, but
uncharacteristically were not following the typical Israeli route, and
generally avoiding the hummus trail (the set route Israelis follow around India).
They had a good attitude about them, played good music, and were
offering me a way more comfortable trip than I had alternatively planned (a one
hour bus, followed by a 10km uphill walk, or attempt to hitch to the village).
When we arrived, I was so
delighted to have chosen to go to Dhankar.
Out of all the small villages I have visited in the Spiti valley, this
one is the most strikingly beautiful. It
is perched on cliff tops, overlooking two major rivers, the Spiti and Pin
rivers converging, all with the Himalayas in the background. The main attraction of Dhankar (apart from
the monastery, which we never got to), is its lake.
 |
A city perched on a cliff, with a decent view too,
Dhankar |
An hour climb, at altitude,
challenged even my new army-hardened buddies.
But, the lake is beautiful and worth the effort. There is a very serious sign at the beginning
of the lake, which explains that the lake is for drinking and holy practices
ONLY, and littering around, or bathing in, the lake will attract the wrath of
the gods! So, we were very careful to
make sure our dip in the water was a holy one (😉).
 |
| One of the best signs I have ever read, Dankhar lake |
 |
| Holy swim in Dhankar lake |
We spent the rest of the
afternoon at the lake, and by the time we climbed down, it was time to find a
place to stay. Though, when you living
in a van, the world is really full of unlimited possibilities. I was, again, going to stay in the monastery,
but was invited to stay with my new crew. Their
spot for the night would be beside the river bed, which sounded too good an
opportunity to pass. We set up camp,
made a fire, and they cooked some seriously good pasta.
 |
| Home for the evening, Dhankar |
The next day we packed up, and
made for Kaza. I was going to relax here
for two days, before my next volunteering started. The Israelis were going off the Chandratal
lake, on their way to Kashmir, and invited me along. Initially I declined, as it was the opposite
direction to where I was going, but with some reassurance from a local that I
would be able to get a ride back, some carpe
diem attitude telling me to stop being such a whimp, and checking with my
new travel buddies that it would not be any inconvenience, I joined them after
a short re-fueling, and supply collection in Kaza.
The road there, like the rest of
the Spiti valley really, is amazing, with breathtaking landscapes. The journey passed by looking at the
landscape, listening to music, and trying to appreciate the present,
comfortable journey that was on (compared to travelling through the rest of
Spiti on public transport), and good company.
Only occasionally we had to stop to push the van up a hill or through a
water hazard (you must note, it’s a 4th or 5th hand van,
bought off some other traveller, which has been put through the rigours of the
Indian road system). Only slight speed
bumps (lol).
However, our journey ended abruptly when we reached a part of the
road that had been washed away by some melting snow from the mountains. It was late in the afternoon, and the road
workers we encountered there warned us it would be incredibly risky to try
cross. Also, as I just have explained,
we were not exactly travelling in a land cruiser. The Israeli / army mindset took over in my
travel companions, as they contemplated a way to cross, but thankfully sense,
and caution prevailed, and they reluctantly turned around to head back from the
last town we had passed – Losar.
 |
This was the "road" that finally stopped us
(because it was washed away) |
We had passed through just before,
because there is not much staying there for, but we quickly found a homestay,
and a kind enough host to let us use their kitchen, and soon a feast had been
cooked up.
As we sat to eat, I reflected on
what was truly an Indian-esce few days.
Travelling here, you really do not know what is coming up next. From abruptly leaving volunteering, to seeing
two new villages, hitching in a van, camping by the river, and ending an
impromptu trip to a lake in a small, at an one-horse-town village, eating an
Israeli meal, with new friends, I could hardly wait for what is coming up next.
For now, it was enjoy a meal, and
in the morning, catch a 7am bus back to Kaza (apparently a bus would be here at
7am).
 |
The hitching crew,
stopping to enjoy the view |
No comments:
Post a Comment