Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is unknown. Make today meaningful, and life is worthwhile.

Tuesday, October 1, 2002

Health and Tibetan Medicine


Health

Well, I guess age is catching up with us.

Fran injured her shoulder in a fall in late May (she slipped on loose shale walking on the Great Wall) and it never did heal properly. She ignored it, giving it time to heal, but keeps having little incidents that re-injure it. She has been staying very low-key physically since then, so we haven't done as much hiking as usual. Even so, on safari in the Serengeti, she took a couple of good bumps in the jeep that made it flare up again. Once we landed in India, we made getting her back in shape our top priority.

In Delhi, we visited a good doctor, took X-rays and an MRI, and ruled out anything serious. Looks like tendonitis of the bicep, and a very stiff rotator cup that likely developed to protect the tendon. With a physical therapy prescribed as the remedy, we headed off to Dharamsala, where there is a hospital with a physical therapist.

Here in Dharamsala, we have stayed put until her shoulder improves. Fran got a couple of physical therapy treatments (including acupuncture) from a visiting Western therapist at the hospital. The physical therapy didn't really give much improvement, and even left it hurting more. With the blessing of the therapist, we went off to a ten day meditation retreat, hoping the healing would continue. It really didn't, so upon return Fran visited a renowned Tibetan doctor, Yeshi Dhonden.

Yeshi Dhonden, perhaps the leading traditional Tibetan doctor in the world, was the doctor for the Dalai Lama and has a practice here in Dharamsala. Starting in the late 1970's he has also occasionally visited the West, and joined a group of Western doctors who are evaluating the efficacy of Tibetan medicine. Anecdotally, he has amazed Western doctors. He has joined them on their rounds through the hospital wards, and just by taking the six pulses of the patients was able to diagnose the various problems that had taken the Western doctors a battery of lab tests, MRIs, and other procedures to identify. With just two or three minutes for each patient, he was able to assess what it took consider time and money for the Western doctors to diagnose. To read a bit more about him, http://www.tibetanmedical.com/new_page_48.htm.

It is quite an experience to see him. First there are no appointments. Instead, at 3 AM a set of one hundred numbered slips of paper are affixed to a nail on the wall outside the clinic, which is just a tiny waiting room and examining room down a dark, dirt alley. The doctor sees the one hundred patients from 9 AM until 1 PM. Generally, the numbers are all taken by 6 AM. The waiting room and alley outside his office are crammed full of monks, Tibetan refuges, and a few Westerners, some of whom have traveled to India to see him. Rod also got a number, to see what the doctor might be able to do for his back pain (an old automobile whiplash injury), since that had flared up during the meditation retreat.

Yeshi Dhonden speaks no English, so as he calls out the numbers, the other people in the waiting room motion the Westerners to go in when their number is called. The examination room is very sparse --just one chair for Yeshi facing another chair for the patient, and nearby Yeshi's protégé seated at a small table. He first takes your right hand, placing three fingers on the wrist and then your left hand. He may not even ask the patient what the problem is. His protégé does speak English, and he asked both Fran and Rod to describe their problems. With no more than a brief answer "pain in the back" or "pain in the shoulder", the doctors quickly surmised the problem from the pulse. In Rod's case, the protégé quickly reported "spondylosis", which is the same diagnosis determined after a series of doctors over several years of tests in the US.

All treatments in this clinic are with herbs. Rod and Fran both left with little envelopes of herb pills to take three times a day for fifteen days, and then return if there are still problems. There is no charge for the doctor, and the herbs cost us each about a dollar. Rod's back problems were already subsiding when he saw the doctor, and they continued to decline, so it is not possible to say if the herbs helped. The nature of that problem is that it comes and goes anyway. Fran's progress for the first week was very slow (if any), so at Rod's urging she also visited a Tibetan acupuncturist. After checking with him that the two different treatments would complement each other, not interfere, she started a seven day treatment with him.

The acupuncturist is a Buddhist monk, who takes no payment for services. Unlike acupuncture Fran has had previously, this treatment did not just relax all of the muscles. Instead, it created a strange feeling that she describes as similar to that dry, tight feeling in your throat when you eat peanut butter, except that it is in the back. As the monk moved or heated needles, the sensation would come and go, or shift to other locations. Like with the physical therapy treatments, the first couple of sessions did not magically make the pain go away, in fact Fran thought it was getting worse. By the third day, he was doing quite a bit of manipulation, moving the arm to loosen the rotator cuff. It was quite painful and draining. After each session, Fran went back to the guest house and slept.

At the meditation retreat, a key aspect of Vipassana meditation was learning to feel the sensations of your body without reacting either positively or negatively. If you feel a pleasant tingle, you just observe that it is a tingle and do not react. Likewise if you feel a pain, you just observe it along with all of the other sensations of the body. The essence of the technique is to be very alert and aware of the sensations, but also to remain completely detached from them, and dispassionately observe them just as if they were sensations on some other object. Since we both were having a fair amount of pain during the retreat, we were able to work on this technique quite a bit!

As Fran continued with the herbs and acupuncturist, she also reflected on the experience of the meditation retreat. Concluding that part of the problem was that she was giving too much attention to the pain, she resolved to also just let the pain be, observe it, and not worry about or react to it. Perhaps by focusing so much on it, she was reinforcing it in the mind. So, she began working to remain aware of the pain, but become much more detached and dispassionate.

By the fourth day, there was finally progress! The arm could move quite a bit without pain. The monk also added some more techniques, applying suction cups over pressure points. These were also intense, even causing bruising. But the arm continued to get less painful and more relaxed. After a week of acupuncture, it isn't healed, but is better than it has been for months. The combination of the Tibetan herbs, acupuncture, and meditation is gradually giving some relief. Fran stocked up on another 30 days of Tibetan herbs and we are off!

Spirituality


Spirituality

Spiritual retreats and meditation centers are a big business here in India. There are many very good ones, and also there are many scams. In fact, those of you in Oregon might remember the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh? The guru who created the spiritual community Rajneespuram in Antelope, paraded 37 Rolls Royce cars down the street, and ultimately had to flee the country after his followers attempted to kill local government officials and poison the water supply of nearby towns? He changed his name to Osho and established a large number of centers through northern India and Nepal. He has published over fifty different books that sell briskly in bookstores, and we have encountered a number of his followers. He seems to be doing fine, at least commercially. Osho himself died a few years ago, but his groups continues on. A large and profitable "Osho spiritual health spa" offers a retreat for Westerns in India, with massage, hot tubs, exercise, meditation and such. The back cover of one of his books proudly proclaims that there is only one person on earth today who has the power to raise the spiritual consciousness of the entire population, and that is Osho. I guess you can tell that I'm not predisposed to his teachings!

Sai Baba is another religious leader here in India. He is a self-proclaimed incarnation of God (he realized at age 14 that he was a reincarnation of an earlier avatar), and has a following worldwide. Indeed, thousands of people have witnessed him perform many super-natural acts, such as materializing objects. His followers worship him as the true and only God. They pray to him, in his name, and feel a very personal relationship, much like some of the most ardent Christian believers express with Jesus. They interpret every event in their life as a sign from Sai Baba, and believe all fortuitous events to be blessings from him. Again, he has a large temple here in India. Over one million followers flocked in for his 70th birthday a couple of years ago! I must admit I have trouble accepting anyone who claims to be God, although I also have no explanation for the super-natural acts that he performs.

Despite these two very prominent oddities (in my opinion), there are thousands of legitimate temples, ashrams, and monasteries throughout India. Many Indians, and quite a few Westerners, spend 30 days or so away from all of life’s distractions to tend to their spirituality. They return with a great sense of purpose, a calm patience, and a sincere selflessness. This practice might be worth emulating in the West.

India is 82% Hindu, 12% Muslim, 1% Christian, 1% Sikh, and 0.5% Jain, with even fewer Buddhists, Jews and other religions.

As we travel, I find that I become less interested in religion, but more interested in spiritualism. By that I mean that most religions, it seems, started with a very similar set of core beliefs, but have devolved over time, creating doctrine and hierarchies that obscure the underlying spiritualism.

As I re-read the New Testament or Buddha’s teachings, I find that these leaders had little interest in organized religions. Both avoided the temples and religious leaders of their days, and scorned rituals and dogma. Instead each emphasized living an ethical life in service of others. First and foremost, they teach that you must know yourself, gain control over your passions, your thoughts, and your actions, and live an ethical life. In doing so, you begin to take yourself much less seriously, and only then can you really move on to the service of others, which is what brings true happiness.

Religion attempts to answer many unanswerable questions, such as the afterlife. Is there one hell, or nine, or do we get reborn as a locust?  While this is interesting intellectually, does it really matter? If I really fully embraced the teachings of purifying my mind, living an ethical life and serving others, what difference does it make if there is a heaven or hell?  Isn't the realization that living such a life is the way to true happiness right now sufficient?  If there is a hell, would it change my thoughts or behaviors any? I f so, then it would seem like my actions are determined not by what I know is right in my heart, but instead by whether I think I can get away with it. That isn't living ethically, but just living legally, albeit by a perception of religious law instead of political law. That seems quite unsatisfactory to me.

Perhaps I have spent too much time in the woods, but I think the credo of "Leave No Trace" is a good starting point. Inherent in this credo is the assumption that all actions in the wilderness can cause harm. While that isn't always the case, it certainly is true that many well-intentioned efforts have proved to be misguided, and harm is often not intentional. That is true with people as well. I think Jesus and the Buddha were both correct when they emphasized that first you must know yourself before you can serve others. As long as we are still confused about ourselves, still pursuing our own gain, trying to avoid unpleasant things or seek pleasant ones, then we are in no position to help others. We may think our intentions are good, but we may do harm. First, we must really get to know ourselves, establish firm ethics, and abandon our own egos. That is a difficult process, but one that I think benefits from meditation. Only after purifying our thoughts, words and actions are we able to progress to the stage of serving others, from which true happiness comes.
There are many interesting questions, such as the creation or the end of the universe that religions often attempt to answer. And these are fascinating questions worthy of study. But the answers really do not affect our lives. At the core, I think spirituality is very simple, common throughout faiths, and very difficult. If we just live life ethically, do no harm, dismiss our own egos, live each moment as if it is our last, and serve others, then I think that is about all there is to it. Regardless of which religion turns out to be right on the big questions, we can be comfortable in the knowledge that we have done right spiritually, and have prepared for whatever exists next.

Shabat


Shabat

While at the meditation retreat we met several of those kind of people that just radiate a peaceful soul. They include Lee, Eva, and Shlomo. We were very lucky to meet such kindred spirits, so we stayed in touch with each after the retreat.

On Friday, Shlomo invited us to join him and 30 other Israelis for the Friday meal and religious service. We were honored to be invited and of course said yes!

While we have a number of good friends who are Jewish (Lou, Dan, ...), we really do not know much about that faith. Sure, we are familiar with the Old Testament (Torah), but we don't know much about the religion. So, we trotted up the hill to Dharmakot without really knowing what to expect.

Here we are, both raised as Christians, in a 92% Hindu country, but in a Tibetan Buddhist village, celebrating the Jewish Shabat. My, it is a small world!

Many Israelis travel to India (and also Peru, I'm told) following their military service or college years. It is very common to take a "time out" and travel for several months. As with peers from that age group anywhere, for many it is a great chance to escape and have the appropriate amount of drinking, smoking marijuana, and making noise. In some parts of India, the Israelis have a reputation for being a bit too rowdy. But also in common with peers from elsewhere, travelers of this age are often also full of curiosity, youthful energy, and positive spirit. Dharamsala especially brings out those characteristics.

We hiked up the hill to Dharmakot (just a mile or two), and arrived as the cooking was finishing. The most orthodox men were praying, and the less orthodox and the women headed off to wash up. We waited quietly outside. For some time, we heard prayers, songs, and a bit of dancing. Quickly we noted that the songs were very joyous. These folks wanted to celebrate their faith! I thought back to the dreary, lifeless singing in many Christian churches. It always struck me as ironic that the words spoke of rejoicing and the singing sounded like a dirge.

After the orthodox prayers finished, we joined and were rapidly welcomed. "Are you Jewish?" "No." "Welcome to house of God." "Welcome."

We assembled at a small guest house. The orthodox members gathered inside one room, while others waited outside on a porch. The sounds of more prayers and singing came through the doorway. As more people arrived, they joined the prayer group, which eventually moved into the doorway. People joined into a line, with arms on each others shoulders and sang and danced. I think of orthodox members of any religion as very cold and sterile, but not here! These folks were having fun, smiling from ear to ear!

In Jewish communities, the Shabat is celebrated from sunset on Friday to sunset on Saturday. No work is done; all food is prepared in advance. There are strict kosher rules for the types of food, the storage, and preparation, as well as the activities one can perform.

The celebration starts with women lighting candles in the home. Many men attend the synagogue, which is not just a place of prayer and worship but also the community center and meeting place. Since there are no synagogues in Dharmakot, the men replicated that spirit here in a tiny ramshackle room in the foothills of the Himalayas.

Eventually, about thirty people assembled into a circle on the porch. Some were practicing orthodox Jews, some were raised orthodox but not strict practitioners anymore, others were more casual. We sat on mats and pillows for readings from the Torah in Hebrew, and more singing. There was a special prayer of thanks to Jewish women (Ayshes Chayil), partially for preparing the meals but also due to their historical and contemporary importance in the family and Jewish community. I'm told that even if a couple is celebrating Friday dinner by themselves, the man will sing this song in praise and thanks to his wife. That really is special. Now there's a tradition about half of the world's population would like!

An orthodox man took the role of leader for the prayers and readings. Most people knew the words to a few of the songs, but only three or four knew all of the songs (these were the folks raised orthodox). It was fun to watch the faces as the readings and songs progressed. Many positively radiated. Some eyes roved continuously through the circle, connecting with their soul mates. Other eyes were closed, with faces turned upward in song.

Clearly Shabbat is more that just a time for prayer. The feeling of community and kinship was powerful. Everyone took great comfort in the familiarity of the Shabbat food and celebration, particularly in this foreign and sometimes disconcerting land. Perhaps these youthful people were searching for their own path, but their Jewish roots were an important base.

The service was not cold and sterile. Even during readings, some people might talk or laugh, discussing the reading or maybe something else. The songs were full of revelry. Only the most serious moments, such as the blessing of the wine and bread, demanded complete stillness.

The tradition of bread and wine obviously does not represent the body and blood of Christ, but instead the wine represents thanks to the earth, celebrating the original creation. The symbolism of the bread includes that God has promised to provide for his children, as two loaves are blessed on Friday, leaving enough for Saturday without toil. That way the Sabbath can be kept completely for the spiritual not material world. (The woman seated next to us kindly served as interpreter to explain the traditions, though I'm afraid I've probably botched them seriously.)

First the wine is blessed (Kiddush). A small cup was blessed and then shared by everyone present. Before blessing of the bread or challah (hamotzie), the orthodox men excused themselves to wash. Then the bread was blessed and broken for all to share.

Then we ate. And ate. And ate. I have no idea where they got the ingredients! Creating a meal for thirty people required quite a bit of ingenuity. There aren't any big kitchens here, just an occasional small pot and single burner stove. It seemed that everything was cleaned and put to use. Large buckets were full of delicious soups. Trays were covered with bread. Bins were filled with couscous and vegetables. The eggplant was delicious. We ate until overfilled, and there was plenty left.

The singing continued, reminiscent more of singing old favorite tunes around a campfire rather than a church service. When we departed, we could hear up the hill a small group of local children singing their traditional songs. As we walked and as the wind shifted, their songs mixed and alternated with the songs from the Shabbat celebration. The joy and fellowship was the same. People the same everywhere.

We reflected on the incredibly strong sense of community and identity portrayed by these vagabonds. It is clear how Judaism has survived as a religion. More aptly, it is clear how the Jewish people have survived as a community. The bonds that join them were deep, perhaps more so in some than others, but all felt great comfort in their traditions, sitting in the dark high on a hill in the Himalayas...

McLeod trekking


McLeod trekking

At just 1768 meters (5834 feet), McLeod is not very high in Himalayan terms. In Oregon that elevation would put it near Timberline Lodge. Here, it puts it just barely up in the foothills, more like Sandy.

From the village, you see first a ridge that reaches to around 2000 meters (6600 feet), then another at around 3000 meters (9900 feet). Those are both just wooded foothills. The next ridge begins the true mountains, a jutting ridge of granite, rising to about 4500 meters (15,000 feet). Beyond that, but hidden from view, rise progressively higher and higher ranges as the earth has buckled and broken with the Indian tectonic plate jamming itself underneath that of Asia.

Unfortunately, Fran was unable to do much hiking since she would invariably slip on the loose shale and re-injure her arm. So after a while, I began day hikes alone or with other friends I met along the way. Most were just simple hikes for the day, up a few thousand feet to a waterfall, over a few miles to another village, or such. But I decided to get a good hike in, one that I could really feel physically. I had thought occasionally along our trip that we had yet to get in a really arduous hike, one that left you wobbly at the end of the day and achy the next. Looking up at the Himalayas, I figured I could get a real hike here.

Fran encouraged me to set out for a couple of days, instead of just continuing day hikes waiting for her shoulder to heal. I didn't want to hike alone, so I picked a fairly popular route on which I knew there would be lots of people. There were also several potential destinations, so I could adjust how far I went based on the weather and how I felt.

The first day was a short day. I just hiked from 8:30 until noon, covering 12 km (7 miles). The main challenge was just the climb up about 1450 meters (4800 feet). I had figured on stopping at Triun, a beautiful bluff with a panoramic view of both the village and plain below, and the Himalayas above. But there were quite a few people camped out there and I also wanted some quiet, so after taking in the view I pushed on a little further.

I spent the night at the Snow Line Café. That sounds like a real fancy place, but let me describe it. At this altitude, there are many large slabs of granite. In fact there are quite a few little caves created under boulders piled together at odd angles. In one of the spaces between large boulders sits the Snow Line Café. Two walls are formed from piles of rocks coming out from the back wall, and the roof is just a blue tarp held down against the wind. There is no front wall, and the floor is flat rock with some cardboard tossed down for padding. The proprietors were kind enough to let me lay out my sleeping bag on the cardboard for the night.

The café has quite a tidy little kitchen in deep near the large boulders. On one side is fashioned a stove, consisting of two large rocks for sides with a sheet of metal over the top. A hole in the wall of the café serves as the chimney. On the facing wall are several wood planks held by sticks crammed into the loose rocks. This modest kitchen is stocked with a couple of pots and pans, metal plates, rice, lentils, potatoes, tomatoes, onions, greens, eggs, milk, sugar, spices, tea and coffee. To accelerate the good service, they even have a pressure cooker. They also have chocolate bars (a real hit with the female hikers!), cashews and bottles of soda.

The proprietors are two brothers who live down the hill at Bhagsu, a small village near McLeod Ganj. They open this little café in March and keep it open until December. About once a month one of them will head down to the village to get new supplies (on donkey) and to visit friends and family. They are two of six children, one being 45 years old with a family and child and the other 25 and still living at home. But most of their life is spent up at 3200 meters (10,500 feet) working at their café.

The café is right at the tree line and base of the first granite ridge. It is back far enough from the rock face that you look directly north into an 1100 meter (3600 feet) wall of granite. For a brief moment at sunset the rock glows a delicate pink. Looking west, the sun disappears into the haze beyond the first ridge, and another, and the little hill and village of McLeod, and the plain below. The crows cry loudly as the sun drops, and the eagles settle down from the sky for the night. The temperature drops below the freezing point in just a few hours.

Six visitors stop at the café for the night. One has carried an enormous telescope up the trail to view the full moon. It is so powerful that aligned correctly he says we should be able to see the American rover parked in the dust. A small haze obscures the view, but we get a few clear glimpses of the moon. It looks just like NASA photographs, only live. The moon moves so quickly, and the telescope is so powerful, that the craters just sail from right to left through the lens. There is an auto-tracking feature on the telescope, but it requires quite a bit of setup including aligning the telescope perfectly level and facing north, and setting the longitude, date and time perfectly. Instead we just keep nudging the telescope along, catching occasional glimpses through the clouds.

Two women hikers also stay at the café. One is very much on a spiritual journey and will stay for several days to meditate in the serenity of the mountains. The other wants to attempt a climb up to the pass, and has asked one of the café brothers to serve as a guide. I join in, as does one of the other men. Of about thirty people who reached Triun today, nine made it to the Snow Line café, six staying at the café and three in a nearby cave. Those other three plus the three of us will attempt the climb the next morning, in two groups. On the way up to this point I encountered two groups who attempted the climb but both turned back as they lost the trail and encountered difficult rock faces and snow. I'm glad to have hooked up with a group and a guide. Back in town at the government Regional Mountaineering Center, they had told me that to get past Snow Line you really need a guide, and it looks like this was the case.

Actually, they told me that getting past the glacier required a guide. And the map I had showed a glacier just a kilometer from the café. But all that remains is a rocky slope. The glacier disappeared a couple of years ago as the area warmed up and snowfall declined. The towns below are now in serious trouble because their water supply has slowed to a trickle. This was reminiscent of Kilimanjaro in Africa, where we could see just the last traces of the glacier that has existed for all of history, but is forecast to be gone before the end of this decade. Global warming is also blamed for the total absence of the monsoons in India this year, as well as drought in eastern Africa. For anyone still in denial about global warming, I can say it is very real to the people who are beginning to suffer the effects. Coming from the country that emits 36% of the greenhouse gases (with just 5% of the world’s population) I think back to all of the cars, lawnmowers, leaf blowers, and houses kept toasty with natural gas. The comfort of the USA comes at a price that is being paid by other people, as water dries up, crops fail, and villages are forced to relocate. It is embarrassing that our government withdrew from the Kyoto protocol, and is instead expanding oil development in new areas such as western Africa. But alas, since most Americans do not really feel the effects of global warming yet, the necessary cutbacks remain in the distant future, while other people feel the impact.

We plan to set out the next morning at first light. We will eat breakfast at 5:30, and leave with the first light at 6:00. It is important to get up to the top early, since the clouds set in each day between 10:00 and 12:00 sometime, and obscure the mountain until 4:00 or 5:00. Often there is rain at midday. Two days ago a hailstorm came through. We wanted to get the good view at the top and to get down before any rough weather starts.

Our guide is not a rich man. We didn't realize it, but he does not own a watch. So at some point he figured it must be getting close to daylight, and got up to start breakfast. None of the rest of us thought to check our watches right away, so we waited a little while for the porridge to cook and then started to get up. The other man who will hike with us checked his watch and found it was just 3:30! Our Guide quipped "No good guess!" and we all headed back for bed. This time we overshot the other way, so we slopped the porridge down quickly and hit the trail at about 6:45 with a little time to make up.

The trail leads down from the wooded ridge, past the defunct glacier, and then begins to climb. We pass the cave and see that the other party has left already. We spot them up the mountain a little ways. The guide thinks they are a bit too far to the right and might have lost the trail already.

We hike up for about an hour. There isn't much air up here. The guide, who lives at this altitude, simply skips along, getting a little bit ahead so he can stop and smoke a cigarette while he waits for us. The rest of us huff and puff our way up to meet him. The woman starts asking if we are halfway yet at about 45 minutes. I figure that we will take 3-4 hours to reach the pass. The guide just says not yet. After about and hour and a half, she is getting quite tired and turns back. I want to finish the climb, but offer to accompany her back down. She is not too concerned and is able to point out the trail as it wanders back down. We aren't really to the difficult or hazardous part yet, so she heads back down alone, and she makes it back to the cafe without any mishaps.

We take no breaks as we climb, since we got a late start. Over the course of the last 7 kilometers (4 miles) we will gain 1450 meters (4800 feet). I’m the slow one of the group now and not sure that I can make the top, but I do know that I can always take one more step. The legs turn to cement and begin to wobble, but no one gets AMS (acute mountain sickness). We just keep climbing.

The trail is basically a granite staircase. For much of the distance, you can reach forward and touch the steps since they are so steep. In fact I hike that way much of the time since I am a bit wobbly from the altitude. The hail from two days early was still present on many of the stairs, and I didn't relish slipping.

I ask the guide how long it takes him to climb to the pass by himself. He remarks casually, oh about an hour. The human body is an amazing thing, with the ability to adapt to so many extremes. He is 45 years old and not particularly fit, but with the acclimatization to the altitude this is just a walk in the park for him. To me, we are climbing to 4350 meters (14,350 feet), several thousand feet higher than the highest mountain in Oregon. And this is just a low pass in the Himalayas! The human body can adapt to living in the cold and the hot, in the dry and the wet, and low and high. Truly amazing.

Occasionally our guide would check out the other group of hikers. They were well off the trail by now, and have to scale a difficult rock face, and then cross a sloped snowfield. He was worried that they might keep going and get into trouble. They progress slowly, going a bit to one side and then the other, but continuing to make upward progress.

The other hiker and I have both hiked enough to know that often you see false summits long before the real crest. It can break your spirits when you reach what you think is the top, only to discover more mountain above you. So as we hiked we agreed that the ridge we could see was likely not the top, but just the first of several false summits. We were pleasantly surprised! At 10:00 we were standing on the top. Our guide stopped to make an offering to the small Shiva shrine, while we looked at the view. To the south we could see each of the hills we had climbed, descending down to the village and the plains beyond. To the north were first a lower ridge and then a much taller one –about a thousand meters higher than where we stood. It blocked the view of the next range, which was taller yet, and so on. We could see the valleys between the ridges, and while we knew they were inhabited, they looked isolated and desolate. At our feet was a memorial to three people who lost their lives climbing this pass, a vivid reminder of the inherent dangers.

After just a few minutes we began the descent. Knowing that more injuries happen on the way down than up, I took it quite slowly. By 10:20, the clouds began to close up the mountain. We had just made it in time for the view. We could see the other hikers still climbing, but too far from the top. Soon they gave up and turned back down. Of the six tourists that started that morning, only two will make it to the top today.

Unfortunately, my knee began to hurt. Fortunately, with the experience of the meditation retreat behind me I was able to just let it hurt and keep going. We continued down, always just ahead of the clouds. We made it back to the café for lunch at about 1:00 pm.

I figured I’d eat and then decide whether to continue down depending on the weather and my body. The clouds and the sun continued back and forth, with no rain. By 2:00, the chance of rain had passed for the day and I was feeling stronger again. Off I went.

The couple with the telescope and the other hiker who made the top were headed down at the same time, so we went together. Since the man carried the telescope, the women ended up with a heavy load of other gear. I carried some of it down to Triun where they stopped for tea. I wasn't so confident that I would get down the hill before sunset if I stopped for a break, so I kept going. It was a very nice walk down, with beautiful views, birds, monkeys, goats and sheep.

I reached the guest house about ten minutes before six. The sky was starting to turn pink. The other hikers had not caught up with me, so they were finishing their hike in the dark. I was glad I had pushed on. Also, I finally felt the good tiredness of a real hike. I didn't quite realize how far I had gone that day until the next morning when I traced it out on the map. On the second day alone, I covered 28 kilometers (17 miles), climbed 1450 meters (4800 feet), and descended 2900 meters (9600 feet). And my legs are sore. Ah, that feels more like it!

Dharamsala and McLeod


Dharamsala and McLeod

After the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1958-59, a large number of Tibetans fled across the Himalayas to India and settled around Dharamsala and the nearby village of McLeod Ganj, including the Dalai Lama. McLeod Ganj was founded about a century ago by the British as a summer "hill station", a cool refuge from the heat of Delhi. Today, Dharamsala and McLeod Ganj are an interesting combination of native Indian villagers and herders, Tibetan refuges and monks, and Western tourists seeking spiritualism or retreat to the mountains.

At first glance, Dharamsala has less of a Tibetan flavor than we expected. Back in China, we had visited villages such as Zhongdian which were largely Tibetan, and there were colorful Tibetan temples, banners, and dress. The people were clearly of Tibetan descent, with dark rugged faces, rather than the rounder softer faces of the Chinese. The clothing was bright, with the women in traditional dress of many layers, finished off with a black and white apron and a vest.

Most of Dharamsala, on the other hand, looks much like any other Indian village. While there are Tibetan banners, monks and dress, they blend into the background. The main visual image is that of the noisy, busy, narrow dirt and rock streets, tiny dilapidated shops, free roaming cows and dogs, auto rickshaws and motorcycles, overhead wiring loosely strung from building to building, leaky water pipes lying bare on the ground, monkeys on the rooftops, and lots of people. The vehicles fill the air with their puttering and honking. The smells are a blend of the open air food stalls, the dirt and the cow dung.

But when you look deeper you find that Tibetan culture is alive and well in Dharamsala, unlike China. While in China we visited several Buddhist temples and were struck with how the rituals and decorations have been allowed to return in the past decade, but the knowledge and spirit seemed lost. After two generations without the ability to pass on an essentially oral tradition, today the Tibetans in China seem to be lost, just practicing the few rituals and chants that they remember, but without the depth of knowledge of the ancient culture.

Dharamsala, with perhaps fewer outwardly Tibetan symbols, preserved the heart of Tibetan culture. Monks and lay people attend the temple rituals, but more importantly attend daily teachings and lectures, and practice meditation. Since the Tibetans who fled China were largely religious refugees, most of the Tibetan men in Dharamsala are monks, in their robes. Tibetan doctors treat the monks and refuges with traditional herbs. A Tibetan art and culture center preserves the traditional music and dance. Recent refuges set up small cafes.

The Tibetan government in exile has a small complex in Dharamsala, with offices providing social services for Tibetan refuges, and a library which houses a small museum of a few of the treasures that were saved from the Chinese. Up the hill further is the residence of the Dalai Lama, and the main temple. We were fortunate enough to be here during the Puja, a religious festival with three days of chanting and prayers for peace. The temple was full and overflowing with prostrated monks and Tibetan lay people, spinning their prayer wheels, chanting, and fingering their prayer beads.

Tibetan Buddhism seems to have more rituals and magic than any religion I know of. Believers earn merits through various rituals. Each prayer they chant earns one merit, but there are ways to earn merits more quickly. For example, prayer wheels are decorated canisters which contain small scraps of paper with the chants written on them. One simply has to spin the prayer wheel once, and he derives the same merits of saying each of the enclosed chants. Some prayer wheels have enormous numbers of scraps of paper in them, so one can earn merit quickly! We even saw one prayer wheel with 500,000 scraps in it!

Tibetan Buddhism is full of magic and mysticism. For the average lay person, none of this is very important since one must progress on their path in Buddhism practice quite far before having the level of mind concentration needed for these advanced teachings. Only some monks reach this level of practice. The teachings are quite secret, including ancient written sutras but also oral instructions that are never written down since the masters only pass each teaching on to the student when they believe he is ready. Allegedly, these teachings allow the practitioner to escape the normal boundaries between mind and matter, so that the usual physical laws we know of do not apply anymore. The purpose of the practice is to transcend the boundary between mind and matter in a spiritual quest. Just using the practice to show off the magic effects is a serious misdeed, but the practice supposedly allows the monk to levitate, to materialize objects, to cause object to heat or cool, etc.

Buddhism has many different variations, from the sparse and ascetic forms of Burma and Thailand to the mystical practices of Tibet. Surprisingly to me, a popular form in the West derives from Tibetan Buddhism. This is primarily due to the large number of Tibetan monks who fled from China to the West and set up temples to continue their practice. Since the 60's these temples have gradually exposed more Westerns to the teachings. It seems to me that the forms of Buddhism with less magic, rituals and mysticism would fit the typical Western culture better, but the accessibility of the Tibetan monks was the key. Many of the more ascetic monks in Southeast Asia confine themselves to solitary caves, which doesn't spread that practice very well! Indeed as we study world religions we understand that most religions do not include evangelism at all--Christianity and Islam are the two big exceptions.

McLeod Ganj is a growing town. New refuges continually arrive, and new guest houses spring up for the Western tourists. Many buildings are under construction. The construction is rather unique to watch. The buildings are concrete, but they don't quite put up forms and call in the concrete truck like back in the States. Instead, donkeys carry the sand up the hill two sacks at a time. The gravel is just rocks collected nearby, carried in baskets on the heads of women. The two are mixed together in a large pile (maybe 2.5 meters or eight feet across) by men with shovels. The concrete is mixed directly on the ground as water is poured into the mix and stirred with shovels. Needless to say, the quality is not great, but there is also nearly no cost since labor is so inexpensive.

The forms for the buildings are nothing more than scraps of lumber and branches nailed together to shape the pour. For strength, all of the concrete work contains steel rebar, which is bent by hand and tied together with wire. In this manner, the forms create vertical posts and horizontal beams producing a base structure resembling an open, multi-level parking structure. Later, the interior and exterior walls are added, fashioned from homemade bricks, which are trimmed to fit the wavering dimensions of the posts and beams. Plumbing and wiring are just tacked on the outside of the wall.

The actually pouring is accomplished by shoveling the wet concrete into baskets and women carrying them on their heads up the steps or ladder to the top of the forms, where men pour and work the concrete. I'd guess the basket weighs about 50-60 pounds. This theme of women carrying the heavy loads on their heads seems very common here in northern India.

Above McLeod Ganj are a couple of meditation centers. We signed up for a ten day retreat at the Vipassana Center. Also, McLeod Ganj is at the base of the Himalayas, so we get in a few hikes. But mostly we stayed here to treat Fran's shoulder with physical therapy, acupuncture and Tibetan herbs, and give it time to heal. We spent our time in Dharamsala slowly. We read, hiked, meditated, talked with new friends, and attended the daily lectures. We might have moved on sooner if not for Fran's shoulder, but it was a pleasant, peaceful stay.

McLeod meditation

Part of the reason we came to McLeod was for another meditation retreat. The experience in Thailand was not successful, in that we did not learn enough to establish a meaningful meditation practice. We had already reserved places in a ten day retreat at a center in McLeod that practices Vipassana meditation, a technique based purely on breath and observing the body's sensations.

The Vipassana center in McLeod Ganj is one of a large number worldwide. In fact there are two in California and one on I-5 halfway between Portland and Seattle. The leader is Goenka, originally from Burma (Myanmar) and now in India. Burmese Buddhism is very traditional, and allegedly is one of the closest flavors to the original teachings. Much like the Buddha, who refused to get too interested in metaphysical conjectures, mysticism, or organized religion, Goenka just focuses on helping the individual develop concentration of the mind. In fact, Goenka tries to avoid teachings of any particular religion and emphasizes that the development of the mind is non-sectarian. To read more, check out www.dhamma.org.

The Center itself is at the top of the hill overlooking McLeod, looking up to the Himalayas. Heavily forested with Deodar cedar and some pine, with birds and monkeys, the setting is quite serene.

The facilities are relatively new. Until 1997, it was just a set of tarps in the woods! Now it has a meditation hall, a dining hall, and a few concrete guest rooms. Still, most of the people sleep in huts made from tarps, as construction continues on the center.

During the retreat, the men and women are completely segregated. In the mediation hall the men sit on the left side, and the women on the right. All other facilities are completely separate. This does help provide an introspective atmosphere, especially since many participants are in their early twenties, or are couples.

Of 45 men and 25 women on the retreat, over 25 are from Israel. Indian nationals rank second, and then there is a scattering of people from all over the world filling out the remainder. The large number of Israelis in India was surprising to us, but there are a large number of youthful Israeli tourists and many guest houses and restaurants catering to them. Apparently, after youth have served their compulsory three years of military service it is very common for them to travel for 3-6 months, with India and South America being popular destinations. As might be expected with this age group (especially after military service), there are many that are in search of the pleasures of parties, drugs and the opposite sex, and in places they have a bad reputation of being rather rowdy and disrespectful. However, there are also many, such as those at this retreat, who are instead (or at least also) seeking to grow spiritually. Some are troubled by the dichotomy between Buddhism and Judaism, some accept the teachings of Goenka that there is no real dichotomy, and some are closet Buddhists, even with tattoos of a lotus flower on their back.

This retreat is intense. There are the basic rules that one must accept for ten days: no talking; no food other than the basic gruel they serve; no physical exercise, yoga or other distractions; no writing or reading; and various customs such as never pointing your feet toward the teacher.

The daily schedule is to rise at 4:00, meditate from 4:40 to 6:30, take breakfast, meditate from 8:00 to 11:00, take lunch, meditate from 1:00 to 5:00, stop for tea, meditate from 6:00 to 7:00, listen to a teaching and then meditate until 9:00. Basically, there is just one thing to do: practice meditating. That is ten and a half hours a day of sitting in meditation. That amounts to over a hundred hours of sitting on the floor!

There are many different types of meditation. At the simplest, meditation can be used just to relax the body. But generally meditation is focused on calming the constant chatter of the mind. To understand, just try this simple experiment: try to just pay attention to your breath going in and out, with no other mental activity. No thoughts, no feelings, nothing. Just observe the breath. It sounds simple, but for most people after just one or two breaths, a thought arises, a pain shows up, or the mind goes off somewhere. So, the first step in most meditation is calming the mind, so that it can be focused. The value of meditation is in developing concentration, and the first step is to calm all the junk that keeps arising on its own. As an analogy, it is as if we are all riding in cars but have no control over the steering wheel --calming the mind to develop concentration is the first step toward taking control of the car so that we can use it to go where we want.

There are many different techniques for meditation. Some use verbalizations, such as chants or mantras, repeated over and over. Christianity has many of these, especially Catholics, and reciting Hail Mary and using Rosary Beads are examples. This helps focus the mind by giving something to concentrate on, and Eastern devotees of this technique also believe that the proper selection of a mantra can put the mind and body into a resonance with the overall universe. Other techniques include visualizations, such as creating and studying an image in your mind of your God or deity. Tibetan Buddhism in particular is one of the most elaborate practices in terms of vocalizations and visualizations. Also, during meditation, many people experience spontaneous images of light or other pleasant feelings, and some practitioners meditate just to delight in these, without progressing any further.

Vipassana mediation is rather different from these. There are no vocalizations, no visualizations, no short cuts or helps of any kind to meditate with. Instead, there is just a focus on the natural sensations of the body. That is enough. The belief is that since the mind does not create anything new, it becomes sharper and more concentrated. It is also quite a bit more difficult to keep the mind focused, and Vipassana is a practice that may take longer to develop than those using mantras or visualizations. Within the mind, thoughts or images naturally and continually arise, and the practitioner learns to simple let them float by, without following them. Very gradually the mind calms, and these distractions abate on their own.

The key aspect of concentrating on the body's sensations is to be very alert and attentive, so that you feel both the harsh strong sensations (pain, heat, and so forth) but also very subtle sensations that many be occurring at the same time somewhere else. The trick is to get the mind to be aware of every tiny sensation. Generally we focus just on the harsh ones. The other key aspect is to remain detached from the sensations. For example, our natural reaction is to scratch an itch, or move to reduce a pain. Instead, to develop concentration it is important to become detached and just observe each sensation without any particular reaction. In that way the mind remains calm and alert, just observing. In doing so, you find that the sensations all come and go on their own, and do not require any reaction anyway. The itch dissolves, the pain subsides, the tingling ebbs. You just teach the mind to do one thing: observe.

Our experience at the center was both difficult and rewarding. Fran's shoulder was hurting pretty badly at this point (she injured it some months back and it didn't heal, and has been getting worse recently). Sitting for that much time also caused a flare up of Rod's back pain (the old car whiplash injury). So it was quite difficult for us to sit that many hours, motionless, and concentrate. The concept of remaining detached from pain is clear enough, and we could both feel the usual pains such as the ache in the knee or ankle from sitting so long, and indeed those do just arise and then pass if you sit and observe them. But we both had some rather more intense pains that didn't seem to come and go. They just stayed and hurt. After sitting motionless for long periods of time, at the end of the session, it was difficult to move. The legs would be numb, and the back hurting too much to be able to use the arms to move the body. Sometimes the best I could do is simply topple over onto my side, let the legs come back to life, gradually relax the back, and then begin the set of routines the physical therapist taught me in Pasadena. That would generally get the back working again in time for the next session.

The first few days were not so much learning meditation as discipline. I now know that I can tolerate quite a bit of pain. And the technique of remaining detached and just observing really works well for that. You neither deny the existence of the pain, nor react to it. It is just there. That's it. You observe it, and just watch with your mind. Has the pain spread over there? Does it feel less intense here? Does it radiate down the arm? You just watch the changes as it goes along. Remaining detached and just observing, it is possible to put up with quite a bit. The ability to calmly observe pain is a useful skill, I presume, particularly because often times once one starts reacting to the pain it intensifies and becomes all-consuming.

Fran has a very intense experience. While meditating, she develops a twitching in her face muscles, progressing to spasms distorting her face. The instructor brushes it off as a common thing not to worry about, but it is very disconcerting and Fran is worried that it is instead a sign of some medical issue.

After a few days, even the intense shoulder and back pains began to subside. Buddhism would say that all pains will disappear if you concentrate the mind on them, study them and remain detached with no reaction. There is probably something to that. Buddhism further says that the pains arise as a result of previous misdeeds (karma), and that if you react to them you reinforce these misdeeds, but if you let them pass then the bad karma subsides and does not reappear. I find that a bit far fetched, although it would be handy to think that all of your misdeeds would be forgiven by calmly sitting for a few hours as pains arise and fall. It does seem quite true that people who meditate seem to be more at peace and radiate more vitality that those that do not, so there is something to the development of the mind. Learning patience, tolerance, and focus seem to me more likely to be keys to that peace and radiance than depletion of the list of prior sins.

I don't know if we will make meditation part of our lives forever. The practice takes an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening. Some days it goes easily, some days it is difficult. The mind is a funny thing. Despite practice, some days it just wants to wander on its own despite my best efforts. Other times it remains calm and focused. For now we are just taking a day at a time, and keeping up the practice.

Dehli


Delhi

You have to be crazy to start a trip to India by flying into Delhi in the middle of the night. Except that that is the way most of the international flights work out. Delhi is described by many people in many ways, few of them positive, and all of them intense. But maybe because we expected it, it wasn't too bad. You just have to be mentally prepared.

Arrival at the airport is straightforward. Everything in India is slow, so it takes a long time for the bags to show up and a long time to get through the lines at immigration. But there really wasn't too much hassle.

Oh, there was one problem. Fran and I both got sick. We are guessing that it was bad food at the cafe at the border of Tanzania and Nairobi. Fran got sick first, while on the ground at the Abu Dabai stop over. Rod followed suit on the plane to Delhi. Then Fran repeated again when we landed at Delhi. But other than the stomach cramps and the challenge of finding a bag in time (which we always did), it wasn't really too bad. The only real problem was that this left us both pretty tired as we landed in Delhi at about 4 AM.

Once you leave the arrivals section of the airport, pandemonium breaks loose. Immediately you are swarmed by taxi drivers, each pushing and grabbing at your bags. If you hop in a cab with them, you are likely to overpay by several times and not get taken to the hotel of your choice. Instead, you have to know to push through the crowd to the Police Pre-paid Taxi booth. There you buy a fixed-price ticket with a cab number on it, and head off to find that car.

There are lots of scams in India. The first you’ll encounter is that the taxi drivers get paid commissions by some hotels to bring in guests. Consequently, they try hard to take you to their pick, not yours. First they question whether you really have reservations. Then they suggest that most hotels do not really hold the reservation, and suggest that you call. They conveniently know a friend at the travel agency on route and can stop to use the phone for free. They dial for you, and amazingly, the person on the other end says they are full. But no worries, the taxi driver knows just the spot and off you go. Other common scams are to say that the hotel burned down, or closed.

Knowing that scam, we refused his insisted suggestions to call ahead. The taxi driver drove to the phone stop anyway but we didn't get out. Then he said he hadn't heard of the Hari Rama (our hotel) and suggested another nice one. I told him that I had a map and could get us there. The hotel is on Main Bazaar which is probably one of the first five streets a taxi driver learns in Delhi, so I knew he could take us there. After driving around looking lost for while, he started asking directions of people on the street. We still refused his offers of taking us to another hotel, and took a very stern attitude. Since he doesn't actually get paid until I give him the pre-paid receipt, I made it clear that he wouldn't get the receipt until we found the Hari Rama. 

The real clincher might have been when Fran told him that she had been sick at the airport and if he didn't get us to our hotel quickly she would get sick again inside his cab. Eventually we did drive up and he saw the sign to our hotel. But he still didn't give up. He grabbed the bag and began to head into the hotel next door, insisting that it was the Hari Rama. I grabbed the bag also and tugged hard enough to pull him and the bag towards my hotel. He finally gave up and we pushed into the Hari Rama. And who would have guessed it? They had nice, low-priced rooms available after all!

Another day, we wanted to get train tickets to Dharmasala. Indian train stations are famous for con artists and thieves, but foreigners have the luxury of special ticket offices without the long lines. India Rail saves a quota of seats for foreigners, so there is even a good chance of getting tickets at the last minute. Of course they are more expensive than the seats most Indians could afford, but they are still cheap by western standards and worth paying for. We knew that if we arrived at the train station with our bags and no tickets, we would be mobbed by cons. So we went the night before to find the foreigner ticket office. It was straightforward, just up the stairs. The next day when we returned, sure enough we were mobbed with "helpful" people telling us the ticket office was every direction except upstairs. Each wanted to direct us to their own ticket office, many of which are scams selling worthless or lower class tickets. Knowing where we were headed, we just plowed through and got the tickets we needed.

As you walk the streets, the beggars are real heart-breakers. Many people simply live on the street, sleeping on the sidewalk. There are a few water faucets along the sidewalks for people to wash. You can see women gather a few twigs from the rare trees or bushes, start a small fire and cook rice, right on the sidewalk. Many of the people look like they haven’t even had that for a while.

The beggars look very desperate. As in the US, you are encouraged not to support them, since that just brings more beggars into the cities. 70% of India’s population is rural, scratching a living out of a small plot, and the cities do not have the jobs or facilities to support them. Consequently some beggars go to extreme measures. We saw beggar mothers with drugged babies. On alternate days, different mothers would have the same drugged baby, or the same mother a different baby. We heard stories of mothers deforming their children, such as breaking legs and bending them backwards, to make them look more pitiful. Combined with real disease such leprosy, it is a heart wrenching sight to walk down the street.

To get more information, we headed off to the Indian Tourism office, just a mile or two up the road. There are many helpful Indians, but there are always con artists. We were continually joined by "helpful" Indians, some just curious natives, others sincerely wanting to help, and some cons. It is annoying to have to keep your guard up and suspect everyone’s motives. Each offers to direct you to the tourist office. Some we know are cons and just ignore them. We have a map and can get there on our own. Others seem like nice people so we talk and walk a while. Even then a few turn out to eventually want to guide us to the wrong place. Near the real government tourist office are a slew of other offices which also put up signs as if they are the government office. Instead, they are just travel agencies selling travel packages and tickets. We eventually find the government office, and it turns out to not have much of value anyway.

We want to wrap up our Africa travels by moving all of the digital photos off of the compact flash onto a CD-ROM. We stop into several internet cafes, but none can write to a CD-ROM. Unfortunately, we do not know where we can get the task done, so are at the mercy of recommendations. Each café sends us to another, none of which can help. We spend a full day just walking from place to place, with no success. We will have to do it later, somewhere else.

In walking around town, we run into many of the other scams. A favorite scam is perpetuated by shoe shiners. As you walk past, they discretely fling a little bit of cow dung onto your shoe. Then they run up to you, point to your fouled shoe and offer to clean it, for a fee of course! I got hit by one.

Walking through town is actually more pleasant than it used to be. Fran was aghast at the smell, but I was quite relieved. When I was here a couple of years ago the air pollution was so bad that you could hardly breathe. Zillions of little auto rickshaws plied the streets, all with two-stroke engines and puffs of blue smoke. The buses were stinky diesel. That has all changed. They are all natural gas now, and the air no longer smells of exhaust. The main odor now is human urine from the homeless. During the summer, the combination of smells of the open markets and people can still get pretty strong, but I was surprised how much better it is. It goes to show what effect each step can have. Someone had the foresight and money to convert all of the auto rickshaws. I can easily imagine a foreign grant that simply offered the conversion to each one for free; along with a free paint job (each converted one had a fresh coat of green paint, while the original ones were black). Given the cheap labor cost, the total bill to convert all of the auto rickshaws was probably somewhere in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was good to see some focused attention with solid results.

We would have left Delhi immediately, except that we want to get Fran’s shoulder looked at. She slipped on the Great Wall and injured her shoulder (previously injured in a skiing fall), and it has not healed properly. She hurt it again on the safari. If anything it has been getting worse, and she is not able to carry a backpack anymore. Fortunately, Indian doctors are very highly educated and skilled, so one of the first things we do in Delhi is to find the best medical clinic (recommended by the ex-patriots and long-term western residents). The doctor is quite good, seemingly just as skilled as western doctors, but with much better bedside manner. He actually listens to patients! This begins Fran’s experience with Indian and eventually Tibetan medicine and then western physical therapy and massage, which you can read about on another page.

While here we toured the India Gate, the park in front of the presidential palace, the Red Fort, the Jama Masjid (a huge Muslim mosque), and found a beautiful peaceful part with the Gandhi memorial. The memorial is perfect for him –it is a simple large slab of black marble with a flame, isolated in a grassy area by a berm and footpath. A steady stream of Indians pays their respects. Nearby, no one pays any attention to memorials to other leaders, including Indira Gandhi and her son.

All in all, Delhi is a nice place if you can avoid and ignore the scams and squalor. Otherwise, it is a torturous place that sends many tourists heading back for the airport early.

India


India

Ah, at last we are in India, one of our "primary" destinations.

India is not just a country, but a vast subcontinent rich with diverse peoples, languages, food, dress, and spirituality. It is a full-fledged assault on the senses and sensibilities. But, with patience and tolerance, we find India is a land full of treasures.

As we reach India, we are ready to grow spiritually. We have been feeling that need to develop during our trip, and are looking forward to working on it here. We will head north to the meditation centers in Himachal Pradesh, and balance some hiking in the remaining good weather before winter comes along, with meditation and yoga practice. Later, we will tour the major attractions of India from north to south, stopping to visit friends in Bangalore, and then settling in for a relaxing stay on the southern beaches of Kerala. We may stay in India about four months, heading out around Mom's birthday (January 14).