TASHIDING
A different St Patrick’s Day. This village is a really small one on a ridge and is visited mostly only for a beautiful monastery filled with mantras carved by the best craftsmen, five monastic buildings as well as rooms for monks, novices and students of Bhuddism. It is also a starting point for trekking but there is a real dearth of restaurants, cafes and hotels. The only two I saw were so very dingy as Indian hotels can be. Linen is often not changed between guests and water is poured from a bucket instead of a tap. I don’t mind if it is a bit clean but here that didn’t seem to exist.
I heard
that there is a guest house up in the monastery and a kind teacher agreed to drive me to the bottom of the steps there. Climbing all those steps is hard enough at the best of times but climbing it with the luggage of 5 months of travel clothes was really hard especially as the rain started with lightening, thunder etc I reached the top to find a very simple guest house with outside squat toilet and an outside bucket for washing. It was dark and the electricity was gone yet again As there is no restaurant up there I ate in the kitchen with the family and shared their meal. They cooked by candlelight. The meal was simple and good and I was delighted to be in out of the storm with a clean bed waiting. The man of the house made me a Thomba which is the millet beer served in a bamboo tall container to which is added boiling water at regular intervals. One is enough to last the night and it is quite potent so it is enough in every sense of the word. This one was especially good as it was homemade. Many other people came in and out of the kitchen they were all called cousin or sister and most seemed to spend the night. None of the others took a drink at all which seems usual here. In Nepal they mainly drink hot water. Everyone goes to bed around 8 pm. No chance of 
reading having no light.
The next morning the mountains were glorious after the storm with all the highest peaks visible. I had a serene walk around the monastery compound passing all of the monks at their various busy tasks - carving in stone, cleaning the butter lamps, praying, turning prayer wheels and teaching.
I was served a brea
kfast of a cup of masala tea and champa. I asked the woman of the house what it was and she said rice and “cow’s water”. It was almost solid, pale yellow in colour and they eat it by rolling it in to a ball and eating it with their hands. I love trying things but I don’t mind if I don’t have it too often.
Off I started again towards Darjeeling. Travel in these mountains is easy. One just has to be down at a point in every village around 6.30 a.m. and jeeps go in all directions. This time I was a bit late as the steps were not easy going down either. I took a taxi to the village and was told that there would be no further transportation going in the direction I wanted until the next morning so I waited a while and then thumbed down a car going in the right direction. I was lucky and he was a very nice person who worked for the government. It is not often that anyone speaks English in these villages except the government employees and teachers. The lack of understanding results in hilarious meals and bills for them. It is no use getting impatient or angry when food does not arrive. If they don’t understand they just forget about it.
A different St Patrick’s Day. This village is a really small one on a ridge and is visited mostly only for a beautiful monastery filled with mantras carved by the best craftsmen, five monastic buildings as well as rooms for monks, novices and students of Bhuddism. It is also a starting point for trekking but there is a real dearth of restaurants, cafes and hotels. The only two I saw were so very dingy as Indian hotels can be. Linen is often not changed between guests and water is poured from a bucket instead of a tap. I don’t mind if it is a bit clean but here that didn’t seem to exist.
I heard
that there is a guest house up in the monastery and a kind teacher agreed to drive me to the bottom of the steps there. Climbing all those steps is hard enough at the best of times but climbing it with the luggage of 5 months of travel clothes was really hard especially as the rain started with lightening, thunder etc I reached the top to find a very simple guest house with outside squat toilet and an outside bucket for washing. It was dark and the electricity was gone yet again As there is no restaurant up there I ate in the kitchen with the family and shared their meal. They cooked by candlelight. The meal was simple and good and I was delighted to be in out of the storm with a clean bed waiting. The man of the house made me a Thomba which is the millet beer served in a bamboo tall container to which is added boiling water at regular intervals. One is enough to last the night and it is quite potent so it is enough in every sense of the word. This one was especially good as it was homemade. Many other people came in and out of the kitchen they were all called cousin or sister and most seemed to spend the night. None of the others took a drink at all which seems usual here. In Nepal they mainly drink hot water. Everyone goes to bed around 8 pm. No chance of 
reading having no light.The next morning the mountains were glorious after the storm with all the highest peaks visible. I had a serene walk around the monastery compound passing all of the monks at their various busy tasks - carving in stone, cleaning the butter lamps, praying, turning prayer wheels and teaching.
I was served a brea
kfast of a cup of masala tea and champa. I asked the woman of the house what it was and she said rice and “cow’s water”. It was almost solid, pale yellow in colour and they eat it by rolling it in to a ball and eating it with their hands. I love trying things but I don’t mind if I don’t have it too often.Off I started again towards Darjeeling. Travel in these mountains is easy. One just has to be down at a point in every village around 6.30 a.m. and jeeps go in all directions. This time I was a bit late as the steps were not easy going down either. I took a taxi to the village and was told that there would be no further transportation going in the direction I wanted until the next morning so I waited a while and then thumbed down a car going in the right direction. I was lucky and he was a very nice person who worked for the government. It is not often that anyone speaks English in these villages except the government employees and teachers. The lack of understanding results in hilarious meals and bills for them. It is no use getting impatient or angry when food does not arrive. If they don’t understand they just forget about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment