Monsoon Honeymoon Part XII: Mountain Strolling in the Dalai Lama's Town. . .

Saturday, June 28- Dharamsala/ McCleod Ganj

Exploring the mountain campus at the Tibetan Children's
Orphanage and School, just before a downpour.

On my second full day in Dharamsala I was desperate for redemption, hungry to enjoy this alpine spiritual retreat in vital health.  On our small crooked bed, sleep had been intermittent for me, but the antibiotics were finally kicking in. Unfortunately Leigh had spent the entire night awake, and she was entering the day in a state of true delerium.  Her solution? "I won't sleep until sunset, so I can maintain my sleep cycle."  Clearly she is from Sparta and I am from Athens (but remember who won the Peloponnesian War. . .).

After a rooftop mountainside breakfast, we set out on a forest hiking adventure.  We had learned that the Dalai Llama had established a boarding school for Tibetan orphans, many of whom had lost their parents in the Tibetan struggle for autonomy within China.  We walked into a cloudy, cool, crisp morning, following a winding road across the mountain into the next valley. With minimal signage it was tricky to figure out where this shadow school was located, so we just tracked along the graded road and chased the occasional car.

After some 100 minutes, we had navigated through a military base, some shops, and a handicraft center to arrive at tiny and touristy Dal Lake. The lake was brown, shallow, and stagnant, but the soaring mountains above the lake contributed a Himalayan grandeur.  After a brief circumnavigation of the lake, we discovered three small, uniformed Tibetan boys, joking and running. We trailed them up the hill and they led us directly into the monastic setting of the Tibetan Children's School. 

Perched above the plains, the temples, and the tourist town, the school inhabited a world apart. With playing fields, a gymnasium, circular stacks of classes and bedrooms, and steep walking trails linking the campus, this school was an edenic vision.  As Leigh and I discussed, it is also likely an institutional cornerstone of the movement for spiritual and political independence for the Tibetan people. As monks smiled at us, children of all ages ran by, and dogs ganged up on free-roaming cows (yes, even here), the skies opened their rainy buckets and showered us. We walked home in the glistening alpine silence for an afternoon rest.

The wheels started coming off for Leigh in the misty early evening, as she became hilarious and delerious after 32 hours awake. We set off again for an evening stroll above Dharamsala.  The clouds parted and the searing high mountain peaks scratched at the heavens. We discovered an old wooden guesthouse tucked away in the forest, as well as a cream-colored golden lab who trotted alongside us for awhile.  At dusk we sat out on an open patio overlooking the valleys below, enjoying Udon noodles in a clean and aesthetic Japanese restaurant. Sleep came easy on our last night in Dharamsala. . .