Buddhist Dogs
So were walking up a road that leads from Mcleod Ganj into the surrounding mountains, in search of the elusive snow that we see above us and heard we could get to in a day hike. As we wind around a bend a very large dog comes bounding towards us from seemingly out of nowhere, with a smile and a wag. I call him ‘bear’ and invite him along for the ride. To my surprise he immediately takes me up on the offer. When we stop, he stops. When we resume, he leads. Ten or fifteen minutes later we reach a fork in the road and he heads up what I would have deemed the wrong way. I try to talk him out of it to no avail, so after him we go. He led us to my ‘field of dreams’ moment below. At this point five more dogs storm full speed at us, barking like…well…wild dogs. Bear puts them in check, and soon we have six dogs in our party. We stick around the field and the monastery next door for about an hour, then took off on the trail with five dogs in toe. For the next 4 hours Mike and I were escorted up the mountain by these guys. Their size, demeanor, politeness and smiles seemed hardly of this world; Buddhist dogs man, Buddhist dogs.
So were walking up a road that leads from Mcleod Ganj into the surrounding mountains, in search of the elusive snow that we see above us and heard we could get to in a day hike. As we wind around a bend a very large dog comes bounding towards us from seemingly out of nowhere, with a smile and a wag. I call him ‘bear’ and invite him along for the ride. To my surprise he immediately takes me up on the offer. When we stop, he stops. When we resume, he leads. Ten or fifteen minutes later we reach a fork in the road and he heads up what I would have deemed the wrong way. I try to talk him out of it to no avail, so after him we go. He led us to my ‘field of dreams’ moment below. At this point five more dogs storm full speed at us, barking like…well…wild dogs. Bear puts them in check, and soon we have six dogs in our party. We stick around the field and the monastery next door for about an hour, then took off on the trail with five dogs in toe. For the next 4 hours Mike and I were escorted up the mountain by these guys. Their size, demeanor, politeness and smiles seemed hardly of this world; Buddhist dogs man, Buddhist dogs.
Field of Dreams at 7,000 ft.
It comes at you out of nowhere. You come up the hill, past the little monastery and just over the ridge there it is; the most organized game of cricket I’ve seen in India. Save any and all cricket complaints until I can defend it in person. At the moment just know that this is the purest sports scene I’ve seen in a very long time. It’s the closest thing to the Sandlot that these eyes have ever seen. The simultaneous joy and pain, the talk in the field, the good natured spirit, it was all infectious. I sat mesmerized. And hey, the view wasn’t so terrible either.
Twice
400 rps ($9) doesn’t get you what it used to. Our ‘deluxe’ night bus was supposed to get us from Mcleod Ganj to Delhi in a solid 12 ½ hours, leaving us six hours or so to make our flight to Kathmandu. How could I be so foolish, of course I should have guessed that the front left tire would blow TWICE on the journey. After the first one was fixed we had to stop every so often to tighten and adjust it. By 6 am, 12 hours into the trip, when we stopped for tea and found out we were still five hours out, we tried to get a little group together to split a taxi for the rest of the trip, as we started to see our plane tickets fading into the realm of wasted money. We got two thais and two Russians and were all set, except that we couldn’t find a cab in the middle of nowhere at 6 am, who’d a thunk it. One of the bus staff said he’d find us one in the next town. So we waited for an hour as the driver etc. had tea, and then took off for the supposed taxi location. Of course there was no taxi in that town, but we were assured there’d be one in the next town. So now it’s a little past 7 and the tire blows, again. We spend the next hour on the side of the road waiting for a taxi. By 8 ish the six of us are packed in a taxi with a driver who doesn’t speak English, monks and travelers wishing us good luck on making our 1:15 flight. The guy who tracked down the taxi tells us we’ll probably get there between 11:30 or 12, as he conspicuosly takes a huge cut of the inflated/ extortionary 850rps each we pay. No time to argue, were on our way. By 1:45, about 20 hours after our original departure, I stand in line at the Air Sahara office booking a seat for the next day’s flight. Angry? Frustrated? Homicidal? Not really, not until I dig into my airport chow mein from ‘Yo! China’, my first meal in those 20 hours, and it was crap. Then I was pissed off.
400 rps ($9) doesn’t get you what it used to. Our ‘deluxe’ night bus was supposed to get us from Mcleod Ganj to Delhi in a solid 12 ½ hours, leaving us six hours or so to make our flight to Kathmandu. How could I be so foolish, of course I should have guessed that the front left tire would blow TWICE on the journey. After the first one was fixed we had to stop every so often to tighten and adjust it. By 6 am, 12 hours into the trip, when we stopped for tea and found out we were still five hours out, we tried to get a little group together to split a taxi for the rest of the trip, as we started to see our plane tickets fading into the realm of wasted money. We got two thais and two Russians and were all set, except that we couldn’t find a cab in the middle of nowhere at 6 am, who’d a thunk it. One of the bus staff said he’d find us one in the next town. So we waited for an hour as the driver etc. had tea, and then took off for the supposed taxi location. Of course there was no taxi in that town, but we were assured there’d be one in the next town. So now it’s a little past 7 and the tire blows, again. We spend the next hour on the side of the road waiting for a taxi. By 8 ish the six of us are packed in a taxi with a driver who doesn’t speak English, monks and travelers wishing us good luck on making our 1:15 flight. The guy who tracked down the taxi tells us we’ll probably get there between 11:30 or 12, as he conspicuosly takes a huge cut of the inflated/ extortionary 850rps each we pay. No time to argue, were on our way. By 1:45, about 20 hours after our original departure, I stand in line at the Air Sahara office booking a seat for the next day’s flight. Angry? Frustrated? Homicidal? Not really, not until I dig into my airport chow mein from ‘Yo! China’, my first meal in those 20 hours, and it was crap. Then I was pissed off.
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