It rained four days in a row and not anyone could complain cause it hasn't rained in a while, in a long while. There was a water shortage and at some point you couldn't flush the toilet properly. While my shoes, socks and lower part of my pants were soaking wet I was still holding a smile because I couldn't complain either - I was in McLeod Ganj, the largest settlement of Tibetans outside Tibet. I didn't even dream of returning here this soon so luckily many causes and conditions ripened at the right time and brought me here for good - to try break some annoying western habits and exchange experiences with this mystical place.
We got the room with this view right when we got out of the bus. Since I knew the place it was easy to picture a location and have the idea how much should it cost. Right now it's 150 rs per night and we're sharing it together with my friend Ed who joined me in Varanasi. Every morning I'm short on breath after lots of steps uphill which brings me right on the Jogiwara road, one of the three main roads in upper Dharamsala. Rogpa, a really nice cafe is just a few steps to the right where Max, twenty one year old dutch man is greeting you with most honest smiles on this planet. He's one of those gems who left home at 16 with six hundred bucks and a guitar on his shoulders and went chasing his dream in the sunny west side of US - California. Well, he's another chapter in this blog anyway. He's volunteering by working at this place together with a korean dude Luis and making tasty teas while teaching him english and a guitar to a manager, a tibetan girl Sangmo. I helped her once making a chocolate cake and the good part for me was that it didn't come out good and we all could eat it for free. I think I could help her again soon.
On the sixth night it got really cold so I could see my breath in the room. Thanks to thermals and a really good sleeping bag (don't worry it's a borrowed one, you know I don't own a shit) I could wake up in the morning and greet the little world of maroon robes, tibetan emo punk rockers, crazy westerners and international-extreme-freestyle indians with fresh snow. If not a tiny 3 centimeter high step in our doorway the water would have probably come in the room and turn socks from moist to wet but not less smelly. Luckily it didn't happen and after shoveling snow a little bit off the terrace the water backed off. Needless to say that snow was falling from the sky (well it's hard to say where the sky is cause I think we're in the sky now) in a huge blocks of ice and only thanks to the most bassiest thunder and x-ray like lightning it came down in slightly smaller pieces covering the land with white blanket and hiding plastic in all possible rainbow colors.
"Sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under", said this hairy soul when I tried to hold his attention for just a second.
I skipped only one kora around temple (clockwise rounds around sacred objects) due to the heavy rain, snow and what not. This is what I try to do every morning combining a good healthy workout with spiritual showering and spinning rusty prayer wheels. The first of the big ones have a broken bell, yet despite the blunt sound you still hear it as it should sound.
Please pay attention to the little kid's bare feet. While I was all wrapped and zipped up to my forehead in snowboarding jacket these fellas where having fun with the snow at the monastery where noone usually goes. Sure I did.
View from the terrace my dear. Yes, you now can be officially jealous and not just because of the view but because I can wake up before sunrise and greet another beautiful day.
I always knew I had a great skill to make good things go bad. On the other hand this bad had too many good sides to it and more importantly very tasty ones.
On the path to enlightenment, literally. This very spectacular pathway leads to the most sacred hills here where many monks are taking a retreat and some of them very long ones. A great master who spent 17 years in seclusion under guidance of HH The 14th Dalailama was still able to hold full meditative equipoise for 12 days after death and realize his mind to its fullest potential. Anytime I go close to his stupa the wind bells go off without any signs of the wind around. I keep silent and remain observed by something that you cannot see but sure it lets you feel its presence. Blessed, confused, speechless and haven't gotten not a single step closer to enlightenment I turn back to hotel grabbing some food on the way. It's a long way coming home and once you've hit this path one realizes how far we are from realizing our mind even to the very minimum. Yet I feel blessed even by hearing the bells and just like a monkey I keep jumping trees, laugh and cry without a real purpose.
Kas man, Raimond, te patiik vislabak, ir vietejo beernelju variacija par temu "sniegavirs". Tas jums nav kkads dums 3 bumbu cilvecinjs, bet kkas bik more smart.
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