Babas, Malas and Football

After spending two nights up in Kiriganga, me and the Estonians headed down to Kasol again, packed and took off to Manali in their car. I had made plans with one of the athletes, Dawa Tashi, to come and stay with him in his village, Kalat, near to Manali. The Estonians jumped in to a hotel and I followed Tashi into a very small path for 10min into the forest, jumping over small streams and getting my face whipped by branches. Just as I was wondering where the h#ll we were going, a small house appeared. Tashi is staying with his grand parents, which are 78 and 88 years old and still very active running around doing stuff. They chat away with me as my Tibetan was supposed to be fluent, but I just return them a confused smile. And also staying here is his little niece, a shy girl that gives a smile and runs away, unless I freeze her with a pointed camera. The house is made in a traditional Tibetan style and has several rooms down stairs and two up, one being a small Gumpa (Tibetan temple). The kitchen house is next doors and has a large U shaped dining area, with the usual pictures of Lhasa and the Dalai Lama. I got the TV/guest room for myself and that was great for the late night matches. The next few days the Estonian team continued filming Tashi and his family for their documentary, while I was going for walks in Manali, even managed to see an old student of mine (nice to see you again Patrick) and bathing in hot springs, yet again.

Manali is the largest town in the north Himashal Pradesh region, before you head off on a two day ride up through the 2nd highest road in the world to Leh, which is the capital of Ladahk, a pristine Tibetan region within India. Manali itself is a buzling town, packed with Indian tourists who come here to enjoy the scenery, ski, paragliding, trekk and even go Yak-skiing! If you can find a herder who are willing, you get on the skis, holding on a line to a yak, a bag of nuts are strapped in front of the yak and off you go! Most travellers stay away from the busy town and lay their hats in either Old Manali or Vashisht, two villages nearby. After a few days with Tashi and his family, I moved on to Vashisht. Here is a strange mix of traditional farmers life, Indian tourists, backpackers, Hippies and Babas (holy men). A farmer got hold of me when I came with my back pack and threw me in to one of his rooms. It's harvest time now, so in the yard cows are walking on the wheat in circles and I just hang around watching the farmers life. The narrow streets are a mine field of cow shit and it's ok to get by though. But when it starts raining, the whole alleyways are flooded with smeared out poop, and then it's not so nice splashing around with flip-flops! In the main square of Vashisht, there is two old temples, one of which is walled in and has holy hot springs. These hot springs are very nice, walled in and with small altars with Hindu deities. Unfortunately it's always crowded by noisy Indian tourist, so it's a bit hard to fully enjoy the serenity and beauty of the place in a relaxing way. Rather you have to enjoy the Indian family interactions around the pool. Little kids reluctantly being dragged in by the fathers, people praying at the shrine, splashing, screaming and shouting next to your ear.

Since the football is on, most of my nights I hang out with the usual crowd (many Brazilians naturally supporting Portugal) in front of the big screen TV at the World peace cafe. During the days, usually spend my time in a shop learning how to do Malas, necklaces with semi-precious stones. My teacher, Zoohar, a Kashmiri fellow, is really nice to have conversations with and he keeps me coming back for playing chess, drinking more gallons of chai and selling stuff of course... So, after a week, I'm packed with 6 malas, 2 silver medallions, a big statue of Krishna, a Kashmir carpet and chai coming out my ears! But he is nice to chat with and he told me allot about the Kashmir history and the situation now. In Vashisht you have also many Babas, most of the time smoking chillums, disappearing into a cloud of smoke. Zohar usually give the Babas some rupees when they come to the shop and I asked him how he knows if they are really holy men. He laughed and said "yes.. cause then sometimes I see them in a restaurant, with gold rings on their hands, eating spaghetti.. Is this really a Baba I ask my self?"

Apart from hanging out with Zohar and at different restaurants and cafes, there's plenty of treks and walks around this area. Specially there is a huge waterfall with 2-3 drops all in all falling from about 300meters. After a looong climb, at the second drop there's a big cave and we went in and saw the waterfall from the inside out. Very nice indeed and I wish specially one friend of mine was here to see that! Now, DawaTashi and me are looking around for a cheap bike to rent, so in a few days we'll be taking off across the mountains to Leh! Now that will be a story to tell I'm sure!

Respect

Every day now I'm getting up early, around 6-7 o'clock and do my Yoga routine (yes, it's true Dixie). By Indian standards, at least up in Kasol, it's too early. When I come for breakfast at 8.30 to the only place that is opened, they are cleaning the restaurant and making it ready. All shops in the village are closed and I don't see any other travelers up. After, I go down for Internet and the guy tells me that I'm very early, the time is now 9.30.. This is very odd for me, I'm usually the late sleeper! Life in India goes slowly, no stress.

The Estonian team has decided to come and visit me in Kasol on their way to Manali. The day after their arrival, we head off to some trekking up the mountains. Driving the car to the end of the road, we walk for 4 hours up through a small, winding, hill side path. As we walk through a pine tree forest, I felt very much the resemblance to the forests I know in Sweden, but here there are the many small tea huts that are very welcoming on the way. The scenery is amazing with a river passing the narrow mountains, we pass several waterfalls and as you look up you see the clouds covering the snowy mountain tops. We started the day late, so when we finally came up to Kiriganga village, we collapsed for a few minuets and then made a bee line to the natural hotspring baths that is there.

The baths are as usual separated for the sexes, probably to protect the men from the women's peeks. While the women has theirs in a wooden shack, the male pool is outdoors and laying rather steep, so you have an amazing view over the green fields and mountains surrounding you. As we came up, light was quickly getting less and we could still read, or rather, make out some of the random text graffitied on the sides and a little here and there. It said things like no sandals in bath, take shower before bath, no bath at night and no bath between 5am and 7pm (?) and stuff like that. A middle aged, skinny Italian was the self appointed pool guardian as we came and he told us to shower before going in. A group of 6 Israelis came a while after us, when already it's turned dark. They showered and jumped in. As they were siting there, an Indian guy saw that two of them had their flip-flops on inside, and told them off with words like bastards and such. It was a bit thought less and disrespectful maybe, but it was dark and they said they didn't see the signs. It was a rather big deal, because in India, your footwear is considered very dirty, both mentally and physically. This was comparable to walking in with muddy boots into someones bathtub. The Italian pool police, with his funny colorful hippie hat, rang his sirens and blew off some steam, 'You bloody people have no f*cking respect!'. As he grew more and more psychotic, he started to jump up and down and yelling 'va fan culo' this and 'you f*ckers' that! As the small crowed was sitting still with our mouths open due to the over reaction (and this was even before the Italians got whooped by the dutch in football!), he started to run around, a dog got kicked, he grabbed 3 pairs of Israeli sandals and threw them up in the air, down the hill side into the dark. Now, the mad Italian must have been around 170 tall with half my weight and the 6 Israeli's were big boy's and everybody was waiting for an Israeli lynch mob retaliation. But everyone was shell shocked, and one of them even started yelling he was sorry for everything, with a tone like his birth was included! Soon after, as me and the Estonians silently made our way down, we saw some shoe less people stumbling around the hillside with lighters looking for their sandals.
So, this is how it can go if you don't learn to respect the culture you are in! You get thorns in your feet!

Being out in the bush, I was afraid I was going to miss the opening of the Euro 08. But no! A satellite dish and Tv had been brought up and powered by generator, all people cuddled up together in a restaurant and enjoyed the games... Forca Portugal and Sweden!!!

Shalom Kasol!

So, the Olympics was over, what to do? First thing, we have to loot the remains of the stock! In old pirate manner, tracksuits, shorts, singlets, drinking bottles, everything was for grabs.. the rest is being sold on eBay, so check it out! Now when I had so much free time, it was nice to relax and what better way then letting my friend Aina, a yoga, Reiki and massage therapist, having me as a practice dummy!? So, now I'm massaged up and I have a nice morning yoga routine to start the days. Big thanks to you and good luck with your new center!

It was time to move on, I've spent over 6 weeks in McLeod and I needed to see something else. Next stop was to be the little town of Mandi, on my way up north to Manali. Mandi is a nice stop 6 hours midway from Daramsala and Manali. It has a sacred lake nearby and it's a quite an interesting place with lot's and lot's of small Shiva temples. Something that is really nice in India is all the colorful women in their beautiful Sari's. They are very photogenic with lots of different jewelry and piercings, unfortunately most are not willing to let you take photographs of them. In the parts up here, you won't find Indian women in jeans and t-shirts, no no, it's all very traditional. Something that Indian men usually tend to remark, when wanting to start chatting with me, is that they like 'women from my country'. I don't know how many these people had met, but with big grins they say "They are very naughty, no? They like sex. Indian women don't like sex...". Well, what can I say to that? Like in Egypt, Indian men seem to have this idea of wanting to 'practice' with these 'western, sex craving women', before marrying a decent Indian girl. And she has to be virgin of course... Arranged marriages are still very common here and very much according to cast and family reputation. It's interesting watching the contact sections in the news papers, they are divided into different sub sections for casts and everybody sticks to theirs.

After a night in Mandi, I wanted to have another stop over in Kasol before continuing to Manali. Kasol is a small village next to a river, beautifully tucked in between two narrow mountain ridges, making it feel like you are in a canyon. There is lot's of forest here, mainly very tall pine trees and also a huge number of Israelis, easily 90% of the travelers here. There is so many signs in Hebrew that I feel illiterate and they even have a Chabad here (a Jewish religious place to take care of traveling Jews). Finally, some good food in the restaurants and I found Labane again! As you sit to eat, your head and feet tend to move rhythmically to the constant psychedelic trans music that is being played everywhere. Weed grows here and there and the light scent of the herb is in the air. In the restaurants most people are smoking pot openly, very naturally and carefree. Some Israelis I met in the restaurant lit up a chillum and told me that all the restaurants pay off the cops and they turn a blind eye for quite some big money by Indian standards. I have to say that even though they tend to have a bad reputation, I do like most Israelis, they are nice people, easy to get along with, always up for good parties and they do keep the prices down!

Next day I walked a bit further up the river to a village called Manikaran. This village is built over natural hot springs and the villagers even cook their rice in small bags that they in a 'fishing' manner dip into the pools. Most houses have hot water and in a few guest houses here, you can have your own hot spring pool! The way in to the village is through a bridge straight in to a big Gurdwara, a Sikh temple. This has also a nice Hindu shrine and the place is holy for both Hindus and Sikhs, that make their was here in masses. Inside they have bigger hot pools, separating women and men. The water has to be diluted with cold water not to cook people, but even so i had to tip toe in very slowly cause it was so hot. It was very nice and I came to think that I probably want to live in Budapest when I grow up. And for the ones that say "there's no free lunches!", I beg to differ and ask them to go to nearest Gurdwara. Here anybody from anywhere get free accommodation for 3 nights maximum (donations are appreciated) and free meals, langar, (just cover your head). In a big hall people sit in rows and volunteers comes with buckets of food and spoon it up on you tray. Sikhism began partly as a reaction against the cast system and the Sikhs regard them selves as Khalsa, chosen soldier saints, fighting for morals and righteousnesses. They don't cut their hair and they run around with knifes that should be used for self defense or protecting the weak. In the shops outside the Gurdwara they sell these religious knifes, but the vendor warned me that I can only bring the small ones on the plane... He had been stopped trying to bring on a bigger model with knuckleduster on a local flight! The whole area around the temple and the village was very intriguing and with the hot water steaming up here and there, laid a mystic, ambient mist over the whole place. There is lot's of Indian tourists right now (holiday time), but I saw hardly any other travelers.

In many places you travel, you can feel change in the air and you see so much new development and construction. In these places here, big change feels very far away. 'Things in rural India change slowly' I think to my self, as I update this blog through my iTouch.