India, Day 17

I lose my mobile phone (read: gets stolen), the 500 numbers I had there, the Hindi love songs recorded on it, Raph’s flamenco ringtone, my flight details, etc etc. HSBC refuses to cover it under the travel insurance. I’m angry with myself for allowing it to happen. Catherine Lusher: if you are reading this, please email me Lyn’s mobile to my yahoo account. Cheers!

It takes me some internal strength not to allow it to spoil my day. After all, I did not lose my money, passport – things could have gone worse. I go on exploring Leh.

Tikse Temple
An old couple struggle up the stairs to this beautiful monastery, the husband tells the wife that all holy places need an effort. An Indian State Bank manager in Leh takes an internal auditor from Calcutta to see the monastery on a Wednesday morning. “You are trying to soften him a little, ha?” I smile at the manager. They both grin.

The monastery is 500 years old, hosts 100 monks, and 30 student-monks. There is a monk school here. We peep at the timetable – all in English; math, eng, hindi. The school has 3 computers. I walk inside of the older shrines, there are 500 years old paintings on the walls. The paint was made of rock crystals, which were pounded, mixed with water. They are very erotic and explicit painting with some fancy positions. A good looking Punjabi-English guy asks what they mean in the monastery. The monk tells us we need to read to comprehend the reason.

My Slovak friends are very fit. They wanted to come to Tikse on mountain bikes today. Thank god the bikes were in bad shape. Now I know how unfit people feel. Now I know how I terrify some of my friends. I’m the victim today. I’m still breathless going up the stairs. The air here is so dry, my nostrils hurt, my lips are cracked up no matter how much papaya balm I apply.

2 donkeys and I are at the bus stop waiting for the next bus. The shopkeeper’s daughter comes out and chats with me. She’s 22 years old, but the harsh sun makes her look older. She hopes to get married next year. Asks me if my parents chose my husband. Because hers will. She will have no say. I was hoping she would, as this is becoming the norm in India; for the boy or the girl to accept or reject the proposed parties. She asks me what village I’m from. She peeps at my diary entries and asks me why I write. She’s never travelled outside of her village. I tell her she does not need to, it’s so beautiful here.

I still feel the altitude effects on me. I’m constantly hungry, when my stomach gets empty, I feel this unpleasant sucking sensation and I’m gassy as anything! I discover Leh in the afternoon, food as a priority. Sewage is a problem here, and food poisoning is all too common. The government and the NGOs are making initiatives to eliminate plastic in Ladakh, this is why everything gets wrapped in newspapers here. I find Donze – a biodegradable laundry, an organic shop with local produce and a network that employs semi-illiterate people. Nice effort. I browse the Leh Bazaar, disappointed with the assortment of fake goods. I come across Purpenikiel & World Peace Café and have the best damn apricot crumble I’ve ever eaten. It’s so big, I skip dinner. I see a hand-written poster asking for volunteers to work on a Ladakhan farm, helping in the Sept harvest, live with the family, the father speaks a little English. I get all excited, I want to go. They say minimum staying period 5 days. Bummer, I only got 3.

I keep bumping to a couple I met in Manali. He’s from Delhi, she’s from Calcutta. I don’t think they are married. He’s a doctor, she’s a English teacher. He’s bubbly, funny, talkative. Doesn’t plan to specialize, in fact he plan to quit allopathic (conventional) medicine altogether. He will go into meditative therapy, reiki, other alternative forms. He’s been practicing it on her long-distance. She’s a strong believer of alternative medicine. Years ago a doctor in Croatia helped her reduce her epilepsy attacks that marred her life. He feels the more he’s practicing it, the more energy and power he can give. I ask him how his colleagues feel about that. He laughs – they ridicule him. “The more energy I have the more confident I become, so it doesn’t really matter what they say”.

We stand at the corner of Donze Laundry, it’s 830pm, the day in Leh is coming to an end, everything gets shut down. The dogs are the king now. We exchange cards, and I’m hoping we remain in touch. I go to bed thinking what diverse people live in this country.