Himachal Pradesh
May 18, 2011
Cold. Sweatshirts. Mountains. Blankets. Hot tea. Pine trees. Clouds. Heaven. The bus ride from Chandigarh to Shimla was a stunning ascent from the hot plains I had spent the past five months in to the foothills of the Himalayan mountain range. And I can tell you, everything is different at 7,000 feet. People dress differently, with nearly all men in Kullu caps and super dorky sweater vests. Tibetan momo stands outnumber the samosa wallas on the streets. Buildings have pitched roofs and shutters on their windows. And there are mountains. I was in heaven.
I took my time exploring Shimla, which is an old British hill-station that clings to the south-facing mountainside. Vehicles are banned from the heart of town (not that they could get around anyways), so exploring the chaotic maze of streets and alleyways was a pleasure. From Shimla, I set off on one of the typical bone-shaking and death-defying local buses that would serve as my means of transport for the next few weeks. I arrived in Rewalsar the same evening and spent the next day exploring the tiny peaceful Buddhist town that surrounds the Rewalsar Lake. The lake is sacred to Hindus, Sikhs, and Buddhists, and it was beautiful to see all three religions practicing in quiet harmony.
From Rewalsar I headed up to Manali, an old hippie town set at the end of the Kullu Valley, and it just kept getting better. The valleys we went through were like nothing I have ever seen – it was like something out of the Lord of the Rings. Roads clinging to canyon walls following the river at hair-raising speeds on your bus, the whole time wondering which highway official forgot to install barriers on the edge of the cliffs you are a few inches from. Every place I went was more beautiful, with snow-capped peaks getting taller, forests getting greener, and nights getting colder. I can’t tell you how good it all felt after missing my own winter back home and spending the last five months in the blistering heat. Manali itself was amazing, set in the mountains with little shops, parks, and restaurants dotting the hills. I made a bunch of friends there, and got to do a few short hikes around town.
Once I was ready to go, I headed back down the valley and up another one to Dharamsala and McLeod Ganj, the home of the Dalai Lama, the Tibet Government in Exile, and the one place in India I was most excited to visit. It didn’t disappoint. I hiked 22 miles and 5,100 vertical feet into the Greater Himalayas, where I got snow in my shoes met Gangada, a old man who has lived alone in his tent for over 16 years, selling water and bags of food to trekkers. I meditated with monks in the Namgyal Monastery and talked about the situation in Tibet afterwards. I wore sweaters and made friends. I wrote poems, read articles on Tibet. And I spent nearly a week truly inspired.
