Amritsar and Dharamsala

After a total of 16 hours, I arrived by bus in Amritsar at 3 in the morning. I checked into the first hotel in sight, a whopping $2.50 for a bed and a cold, dribbling shower. It suited me just fine. With only a few hours before my bus to Dharamsala, I woke up early to see the only notable sight in town: The Golden Temple. Amritsar is the hometown of the Sikhs, started in the 15th century by Guru Nanak, a poor farmer from a neighboring village. His disciples and followers built an enormous white marble and gold temple complex. Before entering, I had to remove my shoes, cover my head with a provided scarf, and wash my hands and feet. I entered the temple's fort-like walls, embellished with minarettes and Islamic styled pointed domes. In the center of the rectangular-shaped complex, there is an enormous pool. In the middle, the temple seems to float on top, reflecting it's golden sheen into the water. People can take a narrow path into the temple, where relics of the past gurus are enshrined with gold, marble inlays, and intricate paintings. Sikhs make offerings to the various shrines and Sikh holy men play music. Surrounding the pool, people walk clockwise around the complex: there's a garden, an assembly hall, and a free dining facility. Thousands of people sit on the floor in long rows, while turbanned men offer fresh chapati (bread), water, and dal (lentils). It was pretty good!

Then to Dharamsala. For my first day, I woke up early and took my map for a walk. I hiked down the ridge to the Tsuglagkhang complex, home of the Dalai Llama. I watched monks complete their morning prayers in the ornately painted temple, colorful and detailed as in traditional Tibetan style. They rang bells and groaned in baritone chants. Despite the intense sounds, the young monks didn't seem as meditative as their elder monks. They behaved like good-natured schoolchildren, smiling at each other and laughing when their teachers weren't looking. It was refreshing to see these young monks light-spirited. After, I visited the Tibetan museum, which documented the Cultural Revolution and the Tibetan exile. It's amazing how they have sustained their culture. Here in Dharamsala, they have erected numerous museums, artisan schools and communities (manufacturing wood carvings, dolls, Thanka paintings, traditional clothing, carpets, jewelry), stupas, and monasteries. They even offer cooking, yoga, and massage classes! I learned to cook all sorts of Tibetan bread with Chef Sangye. I think tomorrow I will treat myself to a massage before my 12 hour busride back to Delhi.

I don't think I would even be in India if it weren't for my cousin Jeff, a filmmaker of sorts and a Tibetan Buddhist. He recently spent three weeks in Dharamsala filming the Dalai Llama and helping monks compile film footage for their archives. He put me in touch with a monk friend, the Venerable Karma Khedup, whom I planned to help digitize VHS footage. My plans changed, but I still wanted to meet this generous man who offered me a fabulous volunteer opportunity. Beaming with energy and smiles, he was just as jovial as Jeff described. I couldn't believe how this burgundy-clothed monk was so tech-savy! Instead of bells and chants, his office was filled with the buzzing of computers, massive hard-drives, and analoging equipment. He lead me through the cultural museum, library, manuscript archive, and film archive.

He asked my plans for tomorrow, and offered to take me to Norbulingka, an artist community, located 8 miles from Dharamsala. We met at the Archives in the morning, and he invited me for breakfast: personally-cooked pancakes, almost an inch thick, with jam and milk tea. I showed him pictures of the family, all of my cousin-brothers and cousin-sisters. He kept referring to Jeff as my brother, (since people here all live with their extended family) so I had to reintroduce the family as brother-brother or aunt-mother. After, we bussed it to Norbulingka, an artist institute whose goal is to preserve Tibetan art and culture. There is a doll museum, filled with figurines of traditional Tibetan dress from various regions and time periods. Inside the temple, along with a towering golden Buddha, workers are busily sewing silk tapestries and painting the walls in greater detail. Up the road, exiled Tibetans are hard at work, carving lotus flowers into wood and welding large pieces of bronze for Buddha statues. But it's not a factory: refugees are able stay at the institute in exchange for their work. Pictures of the Dalai Llama hang over each work station; one boy even carved "Home Tibet" onto his wooden desk. I've never seen a people so devoted to their homeland.