Well, I’ve been back in Dharamsala for a couple days now, and have been going to the Dalai Lama’s teachings. These are three and a half hour affairs, 1-4:30pm, and are quite interesting…he teaches at many different levels at once, from very basic introduction to deep philosophy. (It’s impossible to tell how deep since the higher levels are way over my head, but I know enough about, hmm, logical structures to see that he’s thought things through on a very deep level. It’s very unusual for nuance, sequence, and structure to line up completely, but his do.)

Structurally, the teachings start with chanting Tibetan prayers, then an offering, both of thrown rice, and something more complicated that the Dalai Lama does. (I have no idea what those are about, since they aren’t translated.) Then His Holiness teaches for three and a half hours, with a short break in between. Translations are available by FM radio in four or five different languages…the English translation is quite good, but it clearly leaves out a great deal. I wish I understood Tibetan.

(On the other hand, a Tibetan friend of mine says that she doesn’t understand half of what he’s saying, either…apparently a lot of the vocabulary is specialized religious words, which she doesn’t know–so, oddly, it’s easier for her to listen to the English translation–more accessible.)

Listening to the Dalai Lama speak is very different from reading his books…the books are consistent, but not nearly as complex. It’s wonderful to watch him go straight from “It’s a good idea to practice compassion” into a precisely presented discussion of the philosophical differences, history, and source of the split between Theravada and Mahayana Buddhism. (Actually he talked about much more subtle differences than that, but I can’t cite them, because they went right over my head.) So people of pretty much any philosophical depth can get something out of the teaching, and I’m certain this is deliberate…he has a beautifully complex and self-consistent mind.

(I’ve developed the odd ability to “read” people’s minds–which is to say, by talking to someone for a couple of hours, I can develop a pretty good idea of the world they live in, their internal “rules”, and how deeply they interact with their worlds. Some people have complex minds, some have relatively simple ones, some people look at things in depth, some don’t. The Dalai Lama has one of the most complex, well-structured, and well-balanced minds I’ve seen in a long while…which, of course, one would only expect, given his reputation. Nonetheless it’s a delight to hear him speak. I’d love to talk to him sometime over dinner–not that I’m likely to get the chance, of course. But you never know. 😉 )

The Dalai Lama also has a great sense of humor, which isn’t as obvious in the books…for example, he was discussing impermanence, in particular how age destroys youth and beauty. He said, “As the great sage _____ remarked once, the only thing to be said for aging is that it comes on gradually…I mean, if you were young and beautiful one day and woke up the next day wrinkled and ugly, you’d probably die of a heart attack. So it’s good that it comes on gradually.

“In my case, I used to run up the mountain back behind the monastery in my youth, and leave my attendants far behind. This worried them of course, because the mountain was quite steep, and if I had fallen, I might have died, which would have been bad for them. But now, of course, my knees aren’t so good…my eyesight is okay, at least right now, but then, my hairline is receding, and you can see the gray hairs coming in…I joke sometimes that my gray hair is racing my receding hairline. But being bald is okay, since there’s a Tibetan joke that baldness, goiter, and [missed the third] are the beauty marks of a monk. This makes some sense, if you’re a skinny monk with a skinny throat…”

That’s a pretty good example of his speaking style…funny, memorable, rambling, humble, and deep all at the same time, plus full of illustrative stories. It’s wonderful sitting and listening to him.

That’s not to say that the teachings are all fun and roses. They’re absolutely *packed*–the courtyard of the temple is completely full, you have to arrive an hour or two in advance to get good seats–and the sun can be blazingly hot. It’s incredibly crowded, too–I had to crouch for an hour once because there wasn’t even enough space to sit. (Fortunately, I finally found a space big enough–my legs were *killing* me.) It’s difficult to pay attention for three solid hours, too. But it’s been fantastic, and I’m staying as long as I can before flying back to Bangkok. Next year, I may come back to Dharamsala, just for the teachings.

(Mind you, I’m still not a Buddhist. The deeper points of Buddhist philosophy make no sense to me. But there is something very powerful about the Dalai Lama’s message, that transcends theology…he very clearly and squarely puts compassion first, and the rest of the theology is philosophical window-dressing. (Not to say that they aren’t important, but they take a definite second place to compassion.) This dedication to compassion shows up not just in what he says, but in the way he teaches, and the way he presents his arguments…he doesn’t just believe it intellectually, but practices it on every level. Very beautiful. Also really, really, really cool. 🙂 )

I suppose at this point it would be irreverent to say that he also looks really cool in shades. 😉 But, in fact, he *does* look really cool in shades. 😉

In other news, I went by the Norbilinga Institute this morning to watch thangka being painted…it was, of course, amazing. The artists paint with incredibly fine brushes, and can spend a month or more just laying out the outlines. They train for at least six years before they are fully qualified to paint for Norbilinga…and the detail on some of the thangkas is absolutely fantastic. I was looking at a thangka of the Dalai Lama today (Buddha of Compassion with a thousand hands and some large number of heads)–you couldn’t get a computer to print at that resolution, let alone paint it with a brush. And the thangka at Norbilinga are supposed to be the best of the best.

I must say, I really like the better thangka. (Tonight I spent two hours looking through the shopkeeper’s private collection…the “good” ones that he keeps at home…woo. I mean, woo. Woo woo woo. Words cannot describe. 😎 ) Thangkas have incredible detail and elegance in the artistic lines. They’re less about rampant self-expression (the basic composition is fixed), more about grace in painting a fixed theme. I’m tempted to study painting them, if there’s anyone teaching in the Bay Area. (Not that I’m going to devote six years of my life to learning thangka-painting–that outlasts my attention span by a good 4.5 years, thank you very much 😉 –but it would be nice to learn something about that kind of brushwork.)

It turns out there are actually two kinds of thangka…the non-painted kind are made of fabric, and make the eighteen months I spent on my wedding dress look simplistic. They’re hard to describe, but basically they cut out pieces of silk along the basic outlines of a thangka, then border the edge of each piece with a fine silk-wrapped horsehair cord (about the same thickness as fine florist’s wire), then embroider the finer details. It takes an incredibly long time and costs the earth. I watched them wrapping the silk around the horsehair, and carefully couching the resulting cord with nearly invisible stitches in incredibly fine thread…wow.

It looks like the Internet cafe is now closing, so I’m off…more later, if I get the chance.

I’ll be in Dharamsala through the 24th…I take the night bus to Delhi Monday night, and fly out to Bangkok Tuesday evening. I fly back to San Francisco March 31.

I look forward to the hot showers. 🙂

Tien

Well, I spent last night sleeping with a guru…

No, no, I didn’t do anything that would mess up my karma. I spent last night up in the caves, and since there’s a puja going on, the place was packed–so the only place for me to sleep, was the main cave, with the shrine to Guru Padmasambhava.

It was pretty neat actually, it’s a big cave, paved in marble tiles, and has three separate shrines in it. The first one is a shrine to various Tibetan gods (which I can finally recognize! having spent four solid hours looking at thangka), the second is a shrine with a 10-15 foot statue of Guru Padmasambhava, and the third is a shrine to an Indian princess who was supposed to have been his disciple. I was sleeping in the outermost area, on a Tibetan carpet, under a rock overhang. Very quiet, very peaceful, good for meditation in the morning, too. I liked it very much.

I saw Tibetan prayer flags being printed yesterday, too. These are available all over Rewalsar, and Dharamsala too–I had assumed they were printed using standard printing presses, but it turns out a lot of them are hand-printed! using elaborately carved woodcuts. One nun takes a scrub brush (like you’d use to clean your bathtub) and scrubs India ink all over the woodcut, another lays the fabric over the wood and scrubs over it with a wadded-up plastic bag. The print appears as if by magic. 🙂

(I must admit, I’ve always had a soft spot for hand-printing. One of my fondest childhood memories was printing the family Christmas cards (actually Chinese New Year cards)…we silkscreened them in two colors, using Chinese papercuts to make the designs, and we’d run all over the house, laying the cards out to dry. Probably the most fun we had all Christmas.)

I may leave for Dharamsala tomorrow, I haven’t decided yet. I have found a friend who has a friend who is close to the Dalai Lama, who probably can’t get me in (too busy right now, with the public teachings going on, and anyway there’s no real reason for me to waste His Holiness’s time), but who can get my thangkas blessed–so I may go back to Dharamsala with her tomorrow. I may also wait a day or two and then go–I haven’t quite decided yet. I’d like a few more days of peace in Rewalsar, but there are some interesting possibilities in Dharamsala…Tenzin (the woman I’ve met) has a cousin who paints thangkas at the Norbilinga Institute, for example. Ooh. 🙂

(The taxi driver who wants to marry me also runs an antique Tibetan musical instruments business on the side…while I am not up for the first proposition, the second one sounds intriguing…more gorgeous handcrafts? sign me up…. 😉 )

Today, by the way, is Yet Another Religious Festival (!). One of the wonderful things about India is that there are so many different religions and cultures, that almost every day seems to be a holiday or cultural event of some sort. I’ve been here for exactly a month now, and we’ve had Losar (Tibetan New Year), a ten-day festival to Shiva’s wife, Tibetan Uprising Day, the puja (which is a monthly event commemmorating something that happened on the 10th of the month, but I forget what), and this festival, which appears to be a spring festival to Krishna. (I’m having a hard time getting a really straight answer–language problems, again.)

This festival is more colorful than many of the others–it appears to involve a lot of dancing, parades with Hindi music and drumming, and (most importantly) smearing and splashing people with paint, especially on faces. (My face is now red. And blue. And pink. And yellow. And, at that, much less colorful than most folks’. 😉 ) I’d take photos, except that going outside puts you at imminent danger of being squirted, splashed, etc….which is not good for the camera…so I have been hiding in the Internet cafe. It’s pretty neat to watch, but at a distance.

I had a weird moment of culture shock yesterday, mostly around competencies (or lack thereof). Tenzin, the Tibetan activist woman who’s befriended me, was horrified to find out that the hotel hadn’t actually done my laundry, as they were supposed to. She said, “Didn’t you tell them you needed it immediately?”

I said, “Well, the kid didn’t speak English.”

She said, “Oh.”

Then I mentioned that I’d dropped my clothes off at the cleaners, and she said, “hmm, the weather was bad yesterday, they may not be ready yet. Do you have their number? We could call them…”

I said, “No, I didn’t get their number.”

She said, “You should always get their phone number! Then you can call them and find out…”

I said, “Well, the person on the other end of the line doesn’t speak enough English for me to ask anything…and I don’t have access to a phone…It’s easier just to show up, and come back later if it isn’t ready.”

The funny thing was, the world she lives in isn’t all that different from the world I was in, jut six months ago. I mean, once upon a time, I could do miraculous things like ask for laundry in a hurry, request bus schedules, and so on. I’ve just gotten so used to not being able to communicate, that her (completely logical) suggestions came as a total shock. Of course, she was amazed by my incompetence, too.

I was then culturally astonished to discover that many of the nuns can’t write. (They can all read, or most of them anyway.) It had never occurred to me that anyone could live without writing, but of course if one’s spending one’s life meditating…

One of the most interesting things about traveling has been seeing how required skills shift from culture to culture…an Akha, for example, who can’t handle a 15″ knife is going to have serious competency problems, whereas being able to read and write is considerably less necessary (though still useful). Conversely, in the U.S., it’s reversed: no one knows how to use a machete, but literacy is essential. Different context.

Anyway, it’s going to be really interesting getting home and being culturally competent again. I suspect I’ll go into massive shock, the first time I actually have a conversation (!) with a shopkeeper. 😉

Incidentally, someone asked me what things I missed from the U.S., while traveling…After two or three weeks of thinking about it, I’ve come up with two things: guaranteed hot water, fast Internet access, and my favorite toothpaste. (I *dream* of T-1 lines.)

Speaking of which, I’m almost out of my favorite toothpaste (I brought a six-month supply), so it’s definitely time to come home. 😉

I have had a flight change, incidentally; i’m now coming back March 31. Yes, I’m routing through Bangkok. Yes, I’ve heard about the killer pneumonia thing. We’ll see what happens.

Good luck with the war–I hope everything goes all right, back at home. (I’ll be safe, in Dharamsala.)

Tien

Well. I hardly know what to say…

I mean, I’ve joked a lot about selling off the excess guys who’ve approached me in my travels, but as it happens, I’ve actually been handed one to sell. Anyone want a househusband?? He’ll do the dishes, wash the laundry, and change the diapers…and pay you to boot. All you have to do is get him into the country. 😉

——— So, yesterday, after two frenzied days of shopping and trying to get my thangkas (religious paintings) blessed by various Tibetan personages, I went back to Rewalsar. I missed the rest of my travel companions through a foulup in communications, so wound up having to get my own taxi, for the princely sum of 1600 rupees ($34). (To put this in perspective, that would pay a month’s rent on an apartment in Dharamsala.)

However, to prevent getting ripped off (a white American friend was quoted 2200 rupees for the same trip), I trekked back to the Tibetan handicrafts shop, where I’d made friends with a wonderfully generous Tibetan woman.

(I’ve learned by now that the best way to avoid being cheated while traveling is to make friends with a local person, and get them to advise you. It is, of course, good to give them a gift in exchange–otherwise, you’re using up future tourists’ travel karma. I don’t like giving cash (it encourages people to see tourists as money cows), so I like to buy small gifts instead–I gave her a Buddha-of-compassion thangka, which she absolutely loved.)

At any rate, she wasn’t there, but one of her friends ran off to bargain with the taxi union for me. So I wound up with a Tibetan driver at a pretty good rate.

The guy was really sweet (and kind of cute), so when, about two or three hours into the trip, he started in on the “do you have a boyfriend?” routine, I went along with it, just to see what he had in mind…I figured he was looking for a fling, but it turned out he had Honorable Intentions. Of a sort.

He was, of course, looking for a Western girlfriend to marry him, and get him a visa into the U.S. or some other country. (Once in, Tibetans get refugee status, but they have to get into the country first–which, sans passport, is a bit of a neat trick. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, though.) So he offered first to pay me for a paper marriage, then (when I politely declined) asked me if I knew anyone who was looking for a househusband. In fact, he insisted on it. So, if you’re in the market, and planning to go to Dharamsala, I can send you a photo and his email… 😉

Being in Dharamsala was actually a bit discomfiting, by the way… it’s made me uncomfortably aware of being rich. Not because my yearly salary is more than most Indians/Tibetans will earn in their lifetimes (this is true for most Americans, by the way), but because I have U.S. citizenship…Tibetans, even if they were born and raised in India, do not. (The U.S. is one of very few nations that grants citizenship to anyone born within its borders. I think it’s one of the coolest things about the U.S., actually.)

So, Tibetans can’t own land, hold sensitive positions, or travel about freely…and they do not have passports, which prevents them from leaving India. The wistful looks on their faces when they ask me if I have citizenship aren’t exactly heartbreaking, but it makes me a bit twitchy.

Tibetans, you see, consider me a fellow refugee from the Cultural Revolution–my parents left China during the Communist takeover, theirs left when China invaded Tibet. My parents got into the U.S.; theirs walked out of Tibet, into India. I got lucky. ———

Other than that, I’ve mostly been running around buying gifts–I think I have finally found a route to have my thangkas (religious cloth paintings) blessed by the Dalai Lama, which is wonderful!–though it will mean another trip to Dharamsala.

I’ll be spending the next four or five days up on the mountain, so don’t expect to hear from me much. Most of the lamas/nuns are going to be engaged in a religious retreat (puja) for the week–I’m not going both because I was sick in Dharamsala (so a week of sporadic fasting is not a good idea), and because I’m completely unfamiliar with Tibetan Buddhism. Normally this wouldn’t deter me, but I want a couple of quiet days for contemplation–so I’m going to spend the week in the kitchen, spinning and knitting and helping out the nuns/caretakers. (Lena, I definitely owe you a favor: everyone has been just wonderful, mostly on your account. Thank you. 🙂 )

Some of my flight details have changed, incidentally; so I will be back in Bangkok March 25, and returning home on March 31. But don’t pay out on the pool just yet–you never know what will happen. 😉

back in Tso Pema–

Tien

Well. I’ve now been up on the mountain for a couple days, coming down sporadically to catch a hot shower and email before heading back up. It’s been an interesting experience…I don’t speak a word of Tibetan, and this being Losar all the translators are busy with their families, but I have been surprisingly included nonetheless…and I am getting a LOT better at mindreading.

It turns out actually not to be very difficult…70% of human communication is body language and tone of voice, after all. So while I have absolutely no idea what is being said, I know very well what’s going on: storytelling, gossiping, arguing, etc. are all totally distinguishable from tone, rhythm, and body language.

For example:

“…..” (expounds, with hand gestures) “!!” (surprised expression) “… (nods head) …” “…!” (shakes head admiringly)

is obviously storytelling:

(tells story, with hand gestures) “No! He didn’t!” “Oh, he absolutely *did*…and *I*…” “Wow. I wish I’d thought of that!”

I haven’t the slightest idea what the story *is*, but I can follow what’s happening pretty well…and can insert the right comments (via tone/facial expression) in the right tone of voice at the right time…which amazes people, but conversation is really 90% emotional communication anyway, not literal discussion, so it sort of works.

At any rate: I have been staying up on the mountain, in the communal kitchen, with eight or nine cave yoginis/nuns. The kitchen is a brick building near the main cave (which contains a giant statue of Guru Padmasambhava (I hope I spelled that right) and a secondary shrine to an Indian princess). It’s also next to another shrine which I don’t know anything about, except that it’s full of beautiful brass goblet-style oil lamps, about half of which are lit at any moment. Every so often, another set of pilgrims comes up and lights a few more lamps. I assume it’s an offering of some sort, but no idea what…my ten-year-old “translator” hasn’t been able to explain.

I have mostly been perched in the kitchen, spinning and knitting on my shawl, watching the conversation go on around me…people have been coming in and out, celebrating Losar, bringing gifts and sharing the ritual pinch of tsampa (roasted barley-flour) mixed with sugar, taken from a bowl with a torma stuck in it.

(A torma–and I hope I’ve got the spelling right–is a Tibetan offering, made (as far as I can tell) of tsampa mixed with butter (and maybe water), and shaped into a roughly pear/phallic form. The basic torma is usually embellished with butter–the butter is kneaded in cold water until pliable, then shaped into rayed disks, teardrops, and moons, and attached to the torma. If I recall correctly, they’re then used as offerings to various spirits, but I don’t know anything about the symbolism.)

At any rate, it’s great to watch the people coming and going, and also quite meditative–rather like a silent retreat, except in company. I’ve been helping out a bit around the kitchen–the language of onion-chopping being quite universal–but mostly sitting and watching, and exchanging smiles etc. every so often. I actually don’t feel at all left out, though–just quiet. (I suspect it probably helps that I’ve spent months in places where I don’t speak the language, so I’m used to missing conversations.)

I have also been spending a lot of time playing with a 10-year-old girl…which is interesting, because normally I don’t much like kids. But she and I get along very well together…I’ve been teaching her origami, and folding a small menagerie for her. I’ve also been showing her my little gadgets, which she finds utterly fascinating–especially the digital camera and drop spindle.

I’m curious about the kid, actually…she speaks a little English (so has been translating for me a bit), so I asked her about herself. It turns out she’s the only one of her entire family in India…her mother, father, and brother are all still in Tibet. She was sent out of Tibet, to Lama Wangdor, when she was six–so she’s been living at boarding-school in India, and spends Losar and other holidays with the nuns. I can’t help wondering what prompted her family to send her, alone, to India–but there’s no way of finding out, until I can get a translator. (The upside of being a deaf-mute is that it encourages you to pay attention, and think things out; the downside is that some things really *will* remain forever mysteries.)

The girl, however, thinks I’m the coolest thing since sliced bread, and has been hanging around me a lot. I like her–full of enthusiasm and energy. 🙂

I’m not quite sure what everyone makes of me. They obviously like me, and are fascinated by my facility for handcraft: the drop spindle and shawl are endlessly fascinating.

I gather they can’t quite slot me as a Westerner, since I don’t behave like a Western traveler; but neither am I Tibetan or other Asian, so I must be something else. I *suspect* I am rapidly becoming the God of Small Yet Curiously Useful Objects, however–my gadgetry collection has been much admired.

(I discovered yesterday, by the way, how one opens a tin can without a can opener. Take a medium-sized knife, put it point-down on the can, and then take a hammer and whack the knife until the point goes in. Reposition the knife, whack again, etc. until the can is open. It is of course useful (and speeds things up) to have a friendly Westerner turn up with a Swiss Army knife/can opener, but it’s not strictly necessary.)

At any rate, top on the list of interesting items is the drop spindle–Tibetans also spin, and have a distinctive Tibetan spindle, but only the older nuns know how to spin on one, and apparently no one spins anymore. But other fascinating objects include contact lenses (I explained to the kid that they were like little glasses that fit on top of the eye), my little coin flashlight, and my mini whetstone (which looks like a thin strip of metal on my keychain). I sharpened all their knives yesterday while looking for something to do, which made them all very happy.

My Leatherman (actually Swiss Army Tool) is also much admired, although I haven’t demoed all the blades yet…I sawed a bit of bamboo off with the saw blade yesterday, then carved myself a crochet hook with the knife, which they thought was pretty cool. (I showed the 10-year-old roughly how to crochet, but couldn’t really show much with thin silk thread. I’m getting some yarn in town today and will show her how to crochet more seriously, if she’s interested.) I was also showing off origami frogs–they’re fun to play with, and everyone was passing it around and jumping it around the table.

So like I said, despite being deaf-mute, I haven’t been left out at all. It’s been lots of fun. 🙂

Ah, the caves. You want to know about the caves?

I’m not really sure. I’ve only seen a few caves–the main cave is indisputably cavelike, although it’s more like a series of largish tunnels/crevices in the rock, than the giant caves I saw in Vietnam or Laos. The other “caves” don’t really look like caves, exactly–more like small concrete rooms with boulders mysteriously embedded in ceilings and walls. (It *does* look sort of odd.) The caves are tiny, about five feet by eight, with just enough space for a small bed, table, and meditation platform. The bigger caves have space for a small cookstove/burner, as well.

Most of the caves have electricity; I think some might also have running water. The kitchen area where I was staying had a toilet, but I gather some cave areas don’t (go outside). Apparently things have been modernized a great deal in the last decade or so, though–one or two people mentioned that cave life was a lot less “simple” than it had been, with luxuries like electricity and running water, and people all over.

For food most people still eat tsampa (roasted barley flour), which everyone else ate for breakfast (they fed me onion omelets and chapati, which were quite tasty). Tsampa is traditionally eaten plain, mixed with tea, or kneaded with butter, and is eaten either with fingers, or licked directly out of the bowl with the tongue.

(Tibetan table manners were a bit startling initially–licking bowls to clean them being a very nonWestern approach–but made complete sense, after I thought about it for a minute. In a context where water isn’t readily available, it’s simply the best way to clean a food dish (or the most sanitary way to eat, if you can’t wash your hands). Hadn’t thought about it before, though, having always lived in areas with lots of water.)

The caves are located high up on a mountain ridge, 1-2 hours’ climb up over Rewalsar. One can take a taxi for 100-150 rupees ($2-3), a daily bus, or walk up a series of rough-set stone steps. This path takes you up the mountain, past a small village with many terraced fields, through the construction site for a statue of Guru Padmasambhava, and eventually up to the main cave.

The steps are made of a rough grey stone, and are less stairs than a series of mostly-flat rocks set at regular intervals: it’s rough going, and easy to twist an ankle. In some places, small rockslides have obliterated the path entirely, and you have to scramble around.

I’ve never climbed *up* the path (yet), but it takes about an hour to climb down. Small children come hurtling by, rushing over the stones to school, apparently ignoring the law of gravity.

The view is *fantastic*. It’s not the most beautiful view I’ve seen in my travels–I think Laos, or Vietnam, are more impressive–but there’s a serenity and a human-ness around it that I haven’t seen before. It’s not at all like looking down a mountain in the Bay Area, where the view is either wilderness or smoggy bustling freeway; it’s like looking down on a village/hamlet cum monastery retreat. Simple and spiritual, but definitely human, not wilderness.

At any rate, I spent the last two days up there, then came down in search of hot shower, vegetables, and email. having acquired all three, I’m heading back up there…Ani Bumchun and I are rapidly becoming fast friends, and I’m thinking I’ll get some wool in town, and try knitting her some socks. 😉

I’m told the Dalai Lama may be teaching a week earlier than I thought, so I may leave Rewalsar for Dharamsala sooner than expected–maybe as early as the end of this week. I’m trying to find out exactly what’s going on…Losar is making things a bit more difficult, though, as most Tibetans have vanished for the holiday.

Tien

Well, tomorrow is Losar, the Tibetan New Year, and it looks like I’ll be spending it up on the mountain with the cave yogis, nuns, etc…I went up yesterday to deliver Lena’s Losar gifts to the community, and wound up getting invited to stay over. So I ran down, got my pack, and am headed back up there.

I wrote up a longer description earlier today, but it got axed when the power went out abruptly (it has a tendency to do that around here), so I’ll write more on my return.

Lena: I arranged things with Karma Phuntsok, but since I didn’t have a translator, I had to just give him the list–I’ve gotten better at pantomime, but “…and anyone else he thinks is appropriate” is beyond my skills at charades. If I get a chance, I’ll communicate it.

Also everyone says thank you very much, and you have (in proxy, via me) been taken around to visit everyone, and fed Tibetan milk tea and cookies until thoroughly stuffed. 🙂

I also got a fortune for you last night in the dough balls (I got two, one for me and one for you), but since the only translator was a ten-year-old girl with about eighty words of English, I have no idea what it said. I’m assured it was good, though. 😉

(The kid apparently drew one that said “You have horns on your butt” (at least, I *think* that’s what she said it said)…I’m not sure exactly what kind of fortune that is, but everyone fell over laughing. )

I have to admit, it’s interesting hanging around with people who don’t speak any English. It’s amazing what you can “read” through context and body language.

once more unto the caves…

Tien