I don't know if I am spelling "cora" correctly, but it is the area around the temple adjacent to the Dalai Lama's residency and monastery. One morning, I went down to this area to try to take it all in. There were people circumambulating the temple, praying, and doing prostrations. Some of these people were young, but many of them were older, and a few women walked very slowly and laboriously with canes. Most of the people took the time to set the prayer wheels in motion, sending the prayers into the the universe. I was hesitant to take photos of people worshipping in this holy place, but I did take a few.
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Our tour continued, and the principal explained the critical role of the dorm parents, where the students came from, what their lives were like, how the school operated, and some of the challenges and opportunities they have. We saw some gardens, a “self-study” area, an eating area, and finally, we got to see their big stadium. Many older students were on the dirt field, playing and generally goofing off. The principal told us that they would be practicing what they will do on founder’s day, when all the officials, founders, and administrators will be there to watch. The theme for this year is “Peace Is Powerful”, which was spelled out on the field. We had some time to wait, so we watched as the marching band and other students marched around the field, then came into their group formations. It was fascinating to watch, though I was distracted by the half-dozen dogs that continued to play blissfully and unconcerned around the students as they marched and stood on the field.
Following this, our students met with some of the older TCV students. It was a very awkward encounter, muchas gracias to Jeremiah, who took charge of beginning a conversation. Eventually, the students split into small groups and had some interesting discussions about their lives. Our students experienced a range of emotions, as expressed afterward in our debriefing session. Almost all of the students they were talking with had escaped Tibet in the past 8 years. Many of them did not leave with their families, and will likely never see their parents or siblings again. Some of the boys expressed an interest on trying to get back into China, but it would be quite risky as they know that other people who have attempted to do this have been arrested and jailed. Listening to these young people tell their stories was a powerful experience for me. While I objectively know that there are millions of people who live their lives in situations where they are not free, some are tortured, some flee, some are hungry, some just try to avoid the conflict raging around them, I am always caught off-guard by how overwhelming to meet and listen to people who have had these experiences. I find it hard to believe that this all happened on the first day of our week here, but I guess life is like that. Today we are going to a museum and cultural center, then a day at the Parliament in exile, followed by a day of optional activities, during which I assume the students will do their favorite things, sleep, eat, and shop Many of you know that I took a group of students to Dharamsala last week for our school's Activity Week. I had planned the trip as an exploration of the Tibetan community in exile for AP Human Geography students. We had an amazing opportunity to see for ourselves how the Tibetans are preserving their culture, language and religion in exile from their homeland. We didn't find out until the day before we left that we would be able to meet His Holiness the Dalai Lama. It was an amazing experience, but not solely because His Holiness exudes the warmth, peace and happiness I've read about countless times. Here is the photo op. Yes. I am that happy in every photo they sent us. That silly and stupendous smile might have been because when I shook His Holiness' hand and bowed down, he giggled. It was a distinctively happy, 80 year old man kind of giggle, and I had no clue what provoked it. One of the monks who heard this story later told me that some monks who practice Tantric Buddhism wore their hair the way I do, so maybe that made him laugh. It was kind of a terrific moment for me. There are so many things that could not be shown in this photo, and we were not allowed to take anything into his residency with us, so the group photos will remain the only photo we have of our visit. However, what we saw on this early morning will stay with me forever. Our first day in Dharamsala delivered so many memories. Our 16 hour bus journey here, receded into the distant past, except for the lingering exhaustion that I ignored for most of the day. Our day started early, a 5:45 AM wake-up call for the students, in order to make it to the Dalai Lama’s residence by 7:30. We ate breakfast and had coffee at the hotel, and then set off to meet the 12th grade group. Once there, we waited while Mr. and Mrs. Chophel helped one of our Tibetan students into his “national dress” as we call it. This took a while, as it seemed fairly complicated and the Chophel’s fussed to get it just right. In the meantime, I met one of their daughters, who had come up for this special occasion. She gave out the white scarves we wore when we met His Holiness. We walked the rest of the way to the “cora” which is the grounds of the Dalai Lama’s residence, the temple, and monastery grounds. It was a beautiful morning, and there were a hundred people or so, mostly in Tibetan clothing standing in line. Mrs. Chophel told me that some of them were from Tibet, and had come to Dharamsala secretly. I asked if I could take their photos, and they clearly told me no. Some of them would be returning to China, and it would be quite dangerous for them and their families if the Chinese government knew that had made the pilgrimage to Dharamsala. They had basically risked everything to come to this place, to see the Dalai Lama. They had brought various religious items, the Buddhist wheels, scarves, small tokens, to have them blessed. Most of these people were quite old, definitely old enough to have witness the Chinese invasion and takeover of Tibet. One woman was in a wheelchair, and was pushed up the hill to the audience by a monk. We stood and talked, Mrs. Chophel, her daughter, Charlotte and I about what their journey might have been like and what could happen to them if they returned to China, or were discovered and arrested on their journey back. We also talked about Tibetan culture, and the role that women play in family and social life. Mrs. Chophel described as more equal than Indian society. Tibetan women, she says, don’t stay at home. They typically work, both in traditional society and in the modern world. Parenting responsibilities and household chores are shared, in fact, she pointed out that the traditional man’s Tibetan clothing has lots of fabric in the front of the jacket, which allows him to carry babies and small children close to them to keep them warm. Once the Tibetan group had gone through security, we lined the students up, distributed their ID and, after another 10 minutes of waiting, went in to have our passports and ID checked by security. Once we had completed that step, we went one by one to be inspected by another layer of security. For all of us, this was a surprisingly thorough and intimate inspection. I do feel like the Dalai Lama is quite safe in his residence, because they checked everywhere on my body in which I could have hidden any weapon. We shared our reactions while we gathered in another line for another 20 minutes or so. While we were standing there, we noticed two of the Tibetan women had walked over to a retaining wall and were scooping soil from around the ground at the top of the wall. The put the soil into small bags, and then walked back over to the group. Mrs. Chophel told us that many people who are going to return to Tibet do this, and ask the Dalai Lama to bless it. Then they take it back to Tibet as a symbol of what Dharamsala has come to mean as the home of the Tibetans in exile, the center of their culture, their religion, and their spirit. I had an intensely emotional response to witnessing this. I tried to explain it to the students, some of whom immediately understood, and others who asked what they would do with the “dirt” when they got home. We followed this group throughout our time in the residence, and I was fascinated to observe them as they took in this place, this experience that clearly meant so much to them. I watched as these same women, after having met and been blessed by the Dalai Lama, wept openly as they walked back down the hill. I felt so much gratitude to have been in this place, on this morning. To have eyes to see, and ears to hear. To have a heart to break, and a mind to learn. I felt all the weight of my own good fortune, and tried to imagine even a part of the lives of the people I was watching, and sensing my own incapacity to truly understand the suffering of others. Soon enough, we were ready to have our audience with the Dalai Lama, which entails individual handshakes and a group photo. The machinations of the security and timekeepers were efficient, but not cold. All of it seemed designed to meet the clear desire of His Holiness to make himself available to people, while allowing him to rest. After all, we did not imagine that this brief encounter with him would have even happened a few days ago. He was scheduled to go to the US, but his doctors told him that he needed to cancel his trip, stay at home and rest. While he did seem a bit more frail than I have seen him appear in photographs, otherwise he appeared exactly the same. His spirit clearly gets captured. I had butterflies in my stomach when it was my turn to approach him, and as I shook his hands and bent forward to pay respect, the funniest thing happened. I will forever swear to all of you that he giggled. I believe that I made His Holiness, the Dalai Lama giggle. And that was actually enough for me. I could have ended my day right there, because it was worth the planning, the hot, dusty, and very long bus trip. In fact, none of that seemed like much trouble at all, given what I know some of the other people on that hill, on that morning, had gone through to get there. This will forever be one of the highlights of my time in India. I made the Dalai Lama giggle. After this, we basked in the glow of our good fortune, then Mr. and Mrs. Chophel led us up to the temple, where monks were praying. We got a tour of one of the side temples to the Tara, then walked around, talking and taking more photographs. The monks finished their prayers, and we got to see the temple where the Dalai Lama teaches the monks in the monastery. It was a very special thing to walk through these temples with these lovely people, both of whom fled Tibet in the 1960s, when they were very young. Sharing this experience with them make the entire morning even more wonderful. After this, we walked back to the hotel, ate lunch, then headed off in taxis to visit the TCV school. I had initially planned this trip for my class around the idea of having the students spend time over several days with the students from TCV who were about their age and grade level. I wanted the students to make some connections, and then do a short oral history session, where students would ask and answer questions for each other. It had become clear to me, that my vision was not going to be possible. The TCV students were busy with their school elections, exams, and preparations for a big founders’ day celebration that will happen in a few weeks. The new plan involved us meeting with a few of the top students in their grade 12 for about an hour, which was nice. We were waiting on their outdoor basketball court, when our students spotted some young children on the adjacent playground. Before long, our students were down on the playground, chasing and being chased, playing what was to me an incomprehensible game involving 2 marbles and frequently contested rules. Also, somehow our students had candy, which they quickly shared. Many photos were taken. This was one of the most spontaneously fun parts of the day, and our students were quite sad with the Tibetan dorm parents called their children up to go to their next activity. We are back at home after a whirlwind of a Mid-Term Break. We managed to visit Mumbai for several days where we went to a museum, took a driving tour of the city, each in some fantastic restaurants, witness a major Hindu celebration and find some cool bars and restaurants. Then we travelled by overnight train to Aurangabad to see ancient Buddhist and Hindu caves at Ajunta and Ellora, see Auranzeb's tomb, a fort, eat some fantastic food, and still get back to school with a day to spare. Mumbai is an incredible, sweltering city of almost 20 million. As in all of India, it's astounding to see the difference between the rich and the poor. living so close together. It impressed me as a fairly clean, and, for India, orderly city. After 10 weeks of school food, we were ready to eat delicious food of any origin, and Mumbai didn't disappoint. Our first meal was at a pretty famous Parsi restaurant, where we met the owner, an older gentleman who had a particular fondness for HIllary Clinton. The food was good, the old man was very charming and funny, and the decor was beautiful in that special run-down, antique way that makes me fall in love every time. We travelled to Mumbai for Quarter Break, arriving yesterday. The long days of the end of the grading period had gotten to me. We ate lunch at 3:30, and by 5:00 I was asleep. Everyone else went for another great meal, but I read and slept for the rest of the night. We're off for our first full day in Mumbai today, but here are some photo highlights of yesterday.
One of the simple pleasures here at Woodstock is Pizzeria Night! One of the extra-curricular clubs the kids can participate in is Pizza Club. We order via email during the week. The kids make the pizza from scratch. Dough, sauce, veggies, and meat (if you lean toward non-veg). Then, on Thursday night, we go to the Dining Hall, confirm our order, and get the best pizza in Mussoorie. Since this is a boarding school, this is as close a most of our students get to having a job. It's great experience for them, and, you know, a great dinner for us (that I don't have to cook).
Pizzeria Night was the highlight of many weeks last spring, and now it's year-round. Here is a photo of our first pizzas of the year. Notice the "special" pizza of the week was fiddlehead fern! Yum! They are in season here, and I haven't had any of these in a long time. I don't often ride up to the school on the motorcycle. I've been trying to get to the gym 3 mornings a week, so I've been leaving early. Today was only the third day I've ridden up with Tim. The first time, the clouds lifted and we saw these glorious mounains in some rare morning sunshine. The second time, the clouds surrounded us the entire way, but we did see several small landslides,and more than a few men defecating openly by the side of the road. That morning commute was really special because it had begun with a monkey war outside our house, which got completely out of control and the big male monkey chased us back into the house until the chowkidar (security guard) came down with his uniform and slingshot to chase them off. I don't know if I can handle the excitement of the morning commute more often than once a week. Today we saw two Himalayan jackals. At first, when I saw them on the road, I joked about them being chupacabras, thinking that they were dogs. When we passed them, we thought they were foxes, but later on, one of the more experienced hikers on staff suggested they might be jackals. We looked it up, and sure enough, these are jackals. I was a bit nervous, so the photos aren't that great, but at least I had my trusty camera to capture the moment! This is the story of a dog. A dog who is both our dog, and not our dog. A dog with many names, and a dog with no name. We call her Goose, but then again, she is not our dog.
Goose first appeared in the fall of last year. She was a young pup, and she was hungry. Her visible bones pained us, so we fed her. She belongs to someone in our "neighborhood", most likely an employee of the school. Two young Indian girls appear periodically and call the dog "Scooby". The language barrier prevents any real conversation, but once we think they asked us if we wanted to keep "Scooby". By the end of the school year, the dog we call Goose was coming in routinely to eat and sleep. She can sleep for hours at a time, and very deeply. We began to think that it was only in our house that she could fully relax. Last year she began to follow us up as we hiked to school. We discouraged her, partially to keep her off the two roads we must cross. She made the acquaintance of Mr. Barkey and Cocoa, the two dogs that live in the house above the first road. Soon, she would only go half the way to school, and we considered that a victory. We worry about her when we are gone on vacation. When we came back from our summer break, she appeared to have been hit by a car. Her left hip is wonky and she rarely puts weight on it. She still barks at monkeys and any men who dare approach our house, but she has changed. She is no longer goofy. Her happy-go-lucky exuberance has been tamed. She is an Indian dog, and most dogs here do not fare well, at least to the eyes of soft-hearted, dog-loving Americans. It's just one of those days that I miss home. It's beautiful here today in a melancholy monsoon kind of way. We are enveloped by the clouds everywhere. I rode up to school on the motorcycle with Tim today and we could barely see 20 feet in front of us. On these days, you could easily believe that the mountains and the valleys don't exist because when you look in any direction, you only see the dim grey light. The immersive cloud experiences will continue for another couple of months. I could use a dose of sunshine, but I don't want to be in the Texas heat!
We are going to hike to Top Tibba on Saturday. It's one of the "Seven Summits of Mussoorie". If the clouds allow for it, there will surely be some terrific photos! Look for updates! School started last Thursday, so we are officially back in the groove. Cassidy is in high school! That seems crazy to me, but my mother tells me I'm getting to "a certain age". Our summer seems to have faded quickly into the background, but it was so wonderful! Just being at home with family and friends was so comfortable, and as you might have guessed, living here in the foothills of the HImalayas might be beautiful, but it isn't comfortable. I've taken to describing it as "glamping". If you, gentle readers, were involved in any way in providing us shelter, food, beverages, laughter, trivia, field trips, coffee, or conversation, you made our summer a spectacular one. Thanks!
Now we are here in the land of clouds and monkeys, simultaneously planning our school years and our breaks. Both Tim and I have remarked on how much easier it has been for us this year. We know the people and the students. We know some of what to expect, so we hope it will be less of a rollercoaster than last year. Of course, I am regretting teaching 3 AP classes right now, but I love them all, so it will be fine. I have a pretty large AP Human Geography class, and those kids seem excited about learning about the world, which makes me happy. I start my own study of HIndi on Thursday. I'll have a tutor once a week, maybe two if my schedule allows. That should be interesting. Thanks for following along with us on this adventure. |
AuthorTrish grew up in Texas, but has never owned a pair of cowboy boots. She enjoys a wide variety food, hobbies, locations and people. She also silently judges your grammar. Archives
October 2015
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Trish's Vision
We are back for the second year here in our cloud-covered home. Monsoon is over and there is a chill in the air. Soon it will be time to light a fire and have hot beverages. Then, Winter Break!
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