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Star Date: June 2008 |
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Hello Dear Family & Friends! Sewaro!
"Money is a good
servant and a bad master."
"Capital as such is not
evil; it is its wrong use that is evil. Capital in some
form or other will always be needed."
(Mahatma Gandhi (1869 - 1948) Indian national leader).
Surrounded by Bhutan, Nepal and Tibet, Sikkim is home to over 4000
species of plants, many of them rare. There are 407 known varieties
of orchids, 690 types of butterflies and unique birds such as flashy
monal golden necked pheasants all hidden amongst verdant forests,
flower covered valleys, isolated monasteries and imposing snow
covered peaks. Animals abound and even if you don't spot a Yeti
(abominable snowman) it is possible to see snow leopards, red
pandas, bears, wolves and more. One monastery near Yuksom claims
that it had to relocate further down the mountainside due to
harassment from wandering Yeti. One of those interesting
phenomenon's from the unknown. Many different people, the Bhutias, Nepalis, Tibetans, Subbas, and
the Lepchas have lived here in peace for centuries. This myriad of
cultures has been interwoven in every day life and produced a unique
Sikkimese culture. Traveling within 25 miles of Bhutan and 30 miles
of Tibet it is easy to experience the tribes people and villages
that have oozed over the borders, without having to hassle with
permits or visas of their parent countries. We noticed that these
different groups or castes are still designated not only by their
looks and costume but by their last name. Our friends in Yuksom were
D. S. and Budha Subba (Subbas group) and the manager of our hotel
was named T. Gaytso Bhutia (of the Bhutia group). No doubt what
their ethnic background is. Interesting. How would that work with
our mixed up backgrounds in the melting pot called America. Would I
be called Nancy Norwegian, English, Irish, Croatian & Scotch? To our relief, we discovered that it is easy to obtain a travel
permit at the Sikkimese border crossing at Rangpo. The road up to
Gangtok winds through lush forests, past hundreds of little
waterfalls. Arriving in Gangtok is comical as hundreds of Indian
families walk the hills clothed in hilarious attempts to stay warm
at this cold hill station elevation of 6000 ft. - a relief from the
100 degree weather on the plains below, but a shock to the system.
Having just had my dear polar Tec sweater drop out of the jeep, I
joined their ranks with 2 blouses, a windbreaker, a gortex jacket
and a silk scarf around my head. Though once you started walking up
the hills layer after layer peeled away. Supposedly high season, it
was pulsating and we were sad to hear that the bad habit of guzzling
hard liquor has caught on in Indian hill stations, making for noisy
houseguests and less than happy families. We spent the next day
driving through winding, narrow mountain roads, exploring waterfalls
and gazing over spectacular vistas. We saw Himalayan bears, wolves and
civets in their forested surroundings at the Zoological Park; later
spotting a magnificent snow leopard, red pandas and finally
surreptitiously petting a purring female mountain leopard through
the wire, as her enormous male companion growled with disapproval or
envy. Stopping at the Namgyal Institute of Tibetology, the Orchid
Sanctuary and Enchey Monastery, we finally twisted our way up to
Rumtek Gompa Monastery. Hiding away in a little tea house for some
Tibetan momos, potatoes, and vegetables we then walked up the hill
in search of the legendary black hat used to crown the Karmapas or
leaders of this black hat sect of Tibetan Buddhism. Woven from the
"hair of angels", this hat has to be kept locked up in a heavy wooden
box to prevent it from flying back to heaven. No one has seen this
ruby topped hat since 1993 and only when the 17th Karmapa takes his
rightful place on the golden throne in the main hall, can the box be
opened. Rumtek was constructed between 1961 and 1966 to replace
Tsurphu Monastery in Tibet, which was destroyed during China's
cultural revolution. The young 17th Karmapa fled from Tibet in 2000
and awaits the day when he can rule this displaced Buddhist sect,
only after political tensions have died down with the big Chinese
neighbor to the north. When in Tibet in 1999, during a period of
paranoia by the Chinese government, I was approached by a Tibetan
man at a restaurant, asking if I wanted a private blessing and
Buddhist initiation by the Karmapa, 2000 ft up from Lhasa, in a
neighboring monastery. I told him I was interested in Tibetan
meditation, but not the dharma or scriptures. He told me I already
"knew the dharma..." and to please join this group of pilgrims, free
of charge, to meet the Karmapa. This was the second time, out of the
clear blue, I had been told I was a reincarnated Tibetan monk. "O
mani padmi hum." I still remember my disappointment when a
respiratory infection, common at such high elevations, prevented me
from climbing up to the higher, dangerous altitude. We still talked to
this man several times, and with each encounter it seemed as if we
were being watched or followed by authorities more and more. In the Potala Palace we even played hide and seek with the man tailing us,
thinking it was fun. Just months after spending so much time with
the Karmapa's assistant we read in Asian Newsweek that this young 16
year old leader of the Tibetan Black Hat sect had made a daring
escape to Dharamsala in northern India, involving hiding in the
trunks of vehicles, a helicopter ride across the Mustang, and
finally crossing the mountains by foot; all with the Chinese
officials in hot pursuit. Guilty by association in that case, Joseph
and I were pleased to see that this paranoia has subsided in China.
Authorities are moving forward and trying to have the upcoming
Olympics happen without incident. The Chinese government is still
touchy about acknowledging the reign of the new 17th Karmapa, as
they will be with the next reincarnation of the Dalai Lama, when he
flies beyond the snow peaks. We have all made forward, positive
changes in our lives. Let's hope that the Chinese government is able
to continue doing the same. We walked around Rumtek Monastery, transported back to neighboring
Tibet, as monks debated each other in their unique slapping fashion.
Other monks chanted or read scriptures, and from the rooftop we
witnessed the backdrop of magnificent snow peaks, while 4 llamas
played 10 ft long copper and brass horns, considered holy in
Buddhism. We drifted back down the mountainside to Gangtok, floating
on the notes resounding from the peaks. The trip through Ravangla to Pelling from Gangtok was a non stop
treat to the senses. The road snaked it's way along steep cliff
sides, followed river valleys, and crossed mountain passes; through
forests dripping with orchids, rice terraces, bamboo and hapu groves
and tiny villages. At 6500 ft elevation, Pelling is a funny little
village, its development hanging precariously on the unrivalled
views of Mt. Khangchendzonga (Tibetan meaning: big 5 peaked snow
fortress). Ritualistically, weary travelers drag themselves out of
their warm covers in hopes of glimpsing this elusive 28,209 ft peak,
knowing that it only grants brief audiences for those who persevere
(Mt. Everest is 29,035 ft. and 2nd highest K2, or Chogori, is
28,251ft.). The Portuguese couple we talked to had been trying for 4
days to see the peak, and on this, their last morning, their reward
was returned tenfold. During the rainy season it is easy to ask,
"Mountains, what mountains?" as only the lush green lower mountains
are visible. When the big boys, the snow mountains, grace you with
their presence, your heart skips a beat and joy wells up inside you.
The glory of our astonishing world is revealed and one can only be
thankful for the beautiful gifts of Mother Nature. As the first rays sun kissed the summit of Mt. Khangchendzonga, the
world's 3rd highest peak, the veil of clouds parted revealing the 11
snow peaks, standing like sentinels at the gateway of the Himalayas.
Prayer flags fluttered in the breeze, carrying their messages toward
the heavens. Birds sang in harmony, greeting the new day. It was one
of those instances during which every sentient being pauses in the
moment, remembering that there is something greater at work in this
masterpiece called life. Slowly the day unfolded around us, with
wooden shutters flinging open to exclamations of wonder at the
spectacle before them. The Tibetan family from the guesthouse
finished their incantations in their rooftop prayer room and lit
juniper branches in the burner resembling an alchemical oven. Joseph
prepared our fruit salad and we ate up on the roof, watching as the
clouds danced over the peaks and the villagers in the lush green
valleys below came alive. Suddenly, about 2 hours after the show
began the curtain dropped and these mysterious sentries disappeared
from view, retreating to their mystical realm. We sat and took in the whole ambience of the 'puja', watching as
serious leaders carried less than enthusiastic mini monks on their
shirt tails, some nodding off to sleep, sneaking food or the whole
row of 'tadpoles' in the back poking, squirming and finally
practicing the fine art of hand goggles from the ranks of 'junior
birds men'. This reminded me of antics during long Catholic masses
as a child, such as dropping little balls of fluff down on bald
heads from the choir loft above, starting to laugh so hard that we
had to walk out before exploding, needing a bathroom run to prevent
dying of boredom, or finally perfecting different finger games. Once
the puja ended we exchanged finger games with the mini monks and we
are sure the new one we taught them will ripple through their ranks
next puja. As we were leaving the main courtyard we were invited to
join the head monk and his assistant for a delicious vegetarian
lunch. At seventy seven and 64 years these old monks were warm,
friendly and their twinkle gave away their connection with the
greater good. Just as we started down the hill the heavens opened up
and we ducked into the little 'Lotus Bakery', run by the school
across the road. We enjoyed fresh vegetable puffs steaming from the
oven and split a piece of hot apple pie, as we talked with several
foreign volunteers teaching at the school. After 'goofing' with the
jumping, uniformed little school kids we headed back down the
mountain. What a morning! The following day after a spectacular encore by the snow peaks
and inspired to get an early start by the afternoon downpours, we
headed up another mountain in search of Sangachoeling Monastery. The
ascent brought us past forests, green farmland and remote villages
in the valleys below, and finally up through the mist to the tiny
monastery perched up in the clouds. The view was dramatic amid the
fluttering prayer flags and the monks, all dressed in sweatpants and
t-shirts were friendly, making up for the undistinguished little
temple. We were invited over and over again to join them in their puja the following day but that climb isn't something we wanted to
repeat. Savour the moment. Who knows what tomorrow would
bring. Even the snow peaks were completely hidden
behind clouds the next morning. Yuksom means 'meeting place of the three lamas', referring to the
trio of Tibetan holy men who established their first temple in Sikkim
in 1641. Peaceful tree filled Norbugang Park holds the original
coronation throne of the first Chogyal or king and is a relaxing place to sit, as is holy Kathok
Lake across the road. There are 2 newly renovated Gompas near Yuksom,
supposedly rebuilt by a revered Rimpoche, or precious lama held in
high esteem, and given to the people of the area; Kathok Wodsllin
Gompa and Ngadhak Changchub Choling. As always, temples are located
in serene, inspiring places and worth the walk. The jewel in the
crown is the difficult but rewarding trek up the stone path to Dubdi Gompa, high above Yuksom on a mountaintop overlooking the
whole valley. Traveling through Yeti country, not a single one showed
his furry head. We had to be content with squirrels, herds of
yaks, bands of 'mariachi frogs' and endless chirping birds.
Established in 1701 it is labeled Sikkim's oldest monastery, with a
small stone temple housing old wooden beams and lively murals. Climb
up in the morning, before the mist moves in, to have time to enjoy
sitting in the serene gardens surrounding the temple. We literally crawled down the side of the mountains in our shared
taxi sumo jeep, along dirt trails and across spectacular suspension
bridges through Tashiding, ending in Jorethang.
As we said goodbye to Sikkim we climbed back up into the mountains
on a narrow paved road surrounded by endless miles of the famous
Darjeeling tea plantations. The perfect springtime weather of Yuksom
was replaced by cloudy, cold, and the often rainy weather of
Darjeeling. Formally home to Nepali born Tenzing Norgay, and now his
son, Jamling, it is easy to see that he is revered in Darjeeling.
The first man, alongside Sir Edmund Hillary, to conquer Mt. Everest,
he started as a simple sherpa waiting his turn for an expedition to
the tallest mountain in the world. In those days they used to walk
from here to Tibet and attempt to ascend the north face. I met Tenzing
at Northland College in Wisconsin, when I was only 16 and gazed in
awe, along with a small handful of people, at the movie he took from
the top of the world. An inspiration to me, it was fun to once again
walk in his footsteps. When the clouds part and Everest shows it's
magnificent head from Tiger Hill, if you look carefully you may just
catch a
glimpse of Tenzing's spirit enjoying the view. Another one of those hill stations flooded by hoards of Indian
tourists escaping the heat of the plains, just arrive ready to jump
into the fray. Weather permitting there are endless attractions to
take in, including unbeatable views of the mountains, a zoo,
museums, temples, monasteries, and the infamous Toy Train, a steam
engine built with a 2 ft wide track system in the 1880's mainly to
haul potatoes, of all things. Booked ahead for weeks, Joseph had
always wanted to take a ride on it. As we left the carriage after a
short 10 minute ride because the steam engine broke down, we joined
in the disappointment of the Indian couple next to us who sighed,
"Things in India always get all jumbled up." With only 2 days left on our Indian visa we couldn't believe our
ears: there would be a 'bonda' or strike the next 2 days. Not
wanting to tangle with the Indian Immigration authorities we
immediately caught one of the only jeeps running down toward
Siliguri. Told there were no buses running to the border because of
the strike we caught the only phantom bus as it raced by. In the
rain in Pasupati, we piled into a rickshaw pulled by a strapping young man,
across the bridge and along the 2km bumpy road towards Nepal.
Closing at 7p.m. we had only 20 minutes to make it. No problem! Little
did we realize that oddly the time changed 15 minutes ahead when we
crossed into Nepal. Arriving at the border crossing at 7:05p.m. in
the dark, we rushed in to find a vacant office. Luckily the officers
had just gone upstairs where they lived, and happily came back down
to issue us visas. Namastes! We breathed a sigh of relief and thanks
as we entered this laid back mountain Kingdom of Nepal. Love, Light &
Laughter, $1.00US = 40 Rupees Gangtok:
Mirik:
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