Monsoon Honeymoon Part XI: Overland to the Home of the Dalai Lama. .

Thursday, June 26: Amritsar-Dharamsala

The cool Himalayas are the best summer refuge in
the monsoon, for the British Raj, the Dalai Lama, and us!

If money is no issue, you can fly from one destination to the next, usually.  However, some places are so remote, so mountainous, so small, or so secretive that you've just got to travel overland. Today's mission was to climb from the flat Indian plain up to the 4,000 foot tall Himalayan foothills where the Dalai Lama lives in exile.  We couldn't wait to arrive in the cool mountain air of a peaceful village.

Sadly, we had contracted an anxious, honk-crazy driver, who hurtled along the roads at top speed, loudly and stressfully.  In other unfortunate news, Leigh was slipping into the depths of debilitating flu, prompted by a constellation of factors (heat, fatigue, foreign elements), but most probably the street soda we had imbibed the day before.

10 AM to 6 PM: The cross country car odyssey began anew.  Leigh collapsed almost immediately into my lap as I vanished into Salman Rushdie's "Midnight's Children."  Outside the car the road was endlessly urbanized, and our driver honked his way past every obstacle.  It was exhausting, and Leigh was experiencing a personal Hell as she shivered uncontrollably, even though she was wearing thermal underwear, a gator, a jacket, and socks.  I eyed passing hospitals and considered stopping in if Leigh's antibiotics didn't kick in soon.  

We crossed a river that demarcated the border between the Punjab and Himachal Pradesh.  The scenery transformed entirely.  Verdant green mountains framed vast riverbeds of stones and flowing rivers.  In the distance the gigantic Himalayas sliced the sky in half.  Terraced rice paddies flanked the road.  Of course, in a more mountainous region with a wetter climate, the quality of the road deteriorated, as erosion and potholes sent Leigh's resting head bouncing.  We wound our way up and up through the foothill villages toward a steep, 2,000 foot ascent into Dharamsala.

The village of Dharamsala (population approximately 15,000) and the adjacent village of Mcleod Ganj provide sanctuary to the Dalai Llama.  His Holiness is not only the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism, a religious sect that draws followers throughout India, Nepal, Tibet, and the Western world, but he is also the political head of the occupied nation of Tibet.  

The history is long and complex, but essentially Tibet developed a distinct culture and history over thousands of years, until it was aggressively subjugated by an expanding Chinese Empire in the late twentieth century.  China claims that it has always exercised hegemony over Tibet, and that the Plateau of Tibet is inherently Chinese Territory.  Both claims are untrue distortions of history.  The contemporary policy is the Sinification of Tibet through the deliberate immigration of millions of Han Chinese people into the region, as well as the construction of major infrastructure that links Tibet to the Chinese heartland.

The Dalai Lama fled the Chinese imperialists over fifty years ago for to seek refugee status in India, which is a tolerant home to all of the world's religions.  It is clear to see why His Holiness chose Dharamsala.  It is simply the most spectacular natural setting imaginable, perched up in the mountains and looking out onto the rich and fertile land below.  A sense of timelessness, the massive majesty of nature, and the crisp acoustics of flowing water and chirping birds is never far away in the Dalai Lama's chosen home.  Moreover, a significant Indian military base lies nearby, surely providing a sense of security to a man the Chinese leadership detests.

Another seven hour car odyssey came to an end, as Leigh and I settled in to cliffside hotel "The Annex" of Kashmiri proprietor Hakeem.  A powerful, knowledgeable, and helpful hotelier, Hakeem had run his thriving business for over 15 years.  With plenty of competition in this well-touristed town, Hakeem distinguished himself with his warmth, attentiveness, dutiful staff, and his connections.  We moved in to a cozy room with a patio looking fifty kilomters into the valley below.  Debilitated Leigh slept soundly, and rejuvenated briefly for a simple dinner on Hakeem's rooftop patio.  Too drained to walk the streets, we both drifted to sleep, with the crisp Himalayan air brushing our cheeks.

Friday, June 27- Dharamsala

Time to pay my dues to the Indian travel gods.  

Leigh woke up revived from rest and antibiotics.  I woke up feeling weak, exhausted, and noxious.  I struggled through breakfast, and moved into a thrilling day of sleeping, sleeping, and sleeping.  My head throbbed, my belly ached, and I could barely drink water.  This day was a total wash.  Leigh launched out on walking adventures, meeting an intriguing couple.  Justine claimed French ancestry and was raised in Madras, South India.  Her husband hailed from Princeton, New Jersey and his father was a professor at the University (one of my professors perhaps?).

I lived my day vicariously threw her as my mind went to dark places.  I was angry at India for making me feel this way, and I just wanted to book a ticket home.  Arrgghhh!!!!  Leigh attempted to feed me at a clean Japanese restaurant, but I erupted in shivers, and I was ferried back to The Annex hotel by an auto rickshaw. 

Good riddance to this day.