What a cliffhanger.
Alone. With a girl. In one room. Having no sleep.
We all know what you've thought. I got you there, didn't I?
...
But I tricked you.
The reason why I had no sleep was rather ironic. That's must be one of the most effective ways to get to know more about each other.
Sleeping in a hostel room, having a cold, thirsty at night, anyways waking up, then having my cold peaking, making me wake up every 30 minutes, throat itching, nose running, plus the dry air kinda blocking my nose, then the bed squeaking. Out of all the possible disturbing noises, I think I covered half of them. I guarantee you, there are better ways to spend time with me.
It just made me feel really bad about not sleeping and ruining both our night. Sharing a room with Indian guys, no problem. A bomb could fall and they wouldn't wake up. But sharing a room with an unknown solo traveling Indian girl, that was a gigantic contrast to my previous experiences. I just wanted to sleep, so I tried everything. Sideways. Bellyways. Backways. Sitting up. Moving down. I think at four or five AM I was then catching some sleep.
As you could imagine, the next morning I was as rested as I could be.
My plan for the day was simple.
Get a smaller backpack, and visit the Tourist Office for the Permits, necessary to venture deeper into the land. Simple, yet open enough to get surprised.
And surprised I'd get.
I didn't get very far until a very specific shop struck my eye. I stopped. Went inside. And left about six hours later.
Inside two old souls have met and exchanged multiple teachings. Please ladies and gentlemen, meet Arif:
Most notably he changed my perspective of the arid mountains here in Ladakh. He said he prefers them over green and colorful ones, simply because they are a stronger channel into himself. They distract less. That was fascinating because already after seeing them for five minutes I thought, "okay, they are kinda boring." Well, actually, they. are. boring. And that's good for spiritual seekers.
He would also point me towards a special place I should visit.
Zanskar valley.
The same place I wanted to go from the very beginning. The same place Melroy and I got a clear hint the first day: Zanskar is only for the brave.
Who knows what to expect there.
And he even gave me a name.
Of the most special monk he ever encountered. A monk who dedicated himself fully to peace, compassion, altruism, meditation and connection. But a monk who decided a family is nothing which hinders him on his path, but helps him. A monk, who, for that very reason, was banned from all monasteries. A monk, who, had deep insight. A monk, who shared a unique perspective on many things.
One of them was climate change. He described it in a very different way. A way which Jesus was already quoted saying in the Dead Sea Scrolls. According to Jesus and the Essenes, shamans, etc, weather is affected, if not created by natural spirits. There are many stories about rain prayers, for example. The monk had discovered for him, that we have forgot how to pray to those spirits who balance weather. Climate change was thus for him a direct reflection of our choice of lifestyle and a direct reflection of our disconnection with our nature.
Either way, why or what happens with climate is left to be debated. I'm not saying anything, I just wanted to share a very unique perspective with you that I found noteworthy, and matching enough with ancient wisdom that there might be enough hints to at least dig deeper than some pseudoscientific answers provided and broadcast commonly.
And this weather change causes actual problems here. Houses are not built for rain. But rain increases. For example. Winters become less harsh. Summers hotter. Although that's hardly a negative thing. Compared to usual -30 degree Celsius winters where water freezes, and 20 degree Celsius summers. Maybe, just maybe, Ladakh is one of the regions which might actually benefit to live in due to climate change. But people have to also adapt here. Change is happening.
Unfortunately, last time Arif visited the monk. He was no more.
But he still gave me the name, and the place where he lived. Because he has family. And surely, they'd have a lot of interesting info to share.
As usual, good conversations love good food. So at some point I got some food and followed Arifs local suggestions. Discovering the place, after searching it on my own without any hope of finding it, proved to be a real treasure chest.
The way there already was super cool.
This tree you see, is one of the holiest places of the Sikh religion. In general I was fascinated how well the religious contrasts work here. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and Sikh were all living together. A prime example of India's motto "Unity in Diversity".
But I was lost, had to return, and Arif would guide me to the actual restaurant he recommended. Under no normal circumstances, normal tourists would go there. They would first of all, not even find it. And second of all, not even go there. Only locals do.
Why?
Because the food is good.
And that's exactly the places I am looking for. Not the shiny. The real. The place was in the second floor. The entrace was unknown even to the shop owners on ground floor. I had to walk up the stairs.
Then move through this good looking lobby:
To eventually be rewarded, ending up in this cozy place:
Funny thing, do you see the small wall opening below the blue Himalayan image? That was the window where we order food, and look into the kitchen. Food was handed out of there. And money was going inside there.
I got some Momos for Arif and me, and a third person, just in case. Went back. We had food. And then we continued talking. I think I didn't get the bag that day. I also think I didn't go to the Tourist office that day.
The conversations were just too enriching. We moved outside already, and there we became witness of something absolutely hilarious. Take a look at this image:
Do you see the white car with people around?
Someone actually parked the car there. In the middle of a crossroad. And because they knew they might actually block the way, the opened the window, for somehow to blow the horn. And that's exactly what happens in that moment. The white black shirt guy is blowing the horn. On one side it was annoying because the owner of the car just didn't appear. So the dude had to blow it for a loooooong time, and the horn was loud. But on the other side I just couldn't believe the actual way how life works here.
The third bag of Momos we didn't need.
Eventually I left, and went uphill again to write some.
Cows blessed the street. India. I had Momos up on the mountain. Met again some other people that were in the mood to talk. It got cold. I went home.
It was late. And I slept.
This time though, the entire room was full. And actually, I could only relax then.
And had pretty decent sleep. For the first time, in Ladakh.
