After Stok

I just got back to Manali and I can now write at a more leisurely pace since the internet is not so damn expensive.

I really want to write about my trip from Leh to Manali which is so fresh in my mind, but I have to finish with Leh first. After we got back from the trek Olik and I were burnt out. My body had undergone some serious altitude abuse, and now I was in dire need of some downtime. First we needed to find a guesthouse- we had left most of our luggage in the Jewish House - and we spent a couple hours searching for a good place with a badly needed hot shower. Leh was bustling and rooms were full to capacity, but after a while we found a room for 300 ruppees at Rinchen Guesthouse which is nestled behind the main road - Changspa road - and is run by a nice Ladakhy family. Most of the guesthouses indeed are run by quaint traditional families and in most cases the food served is also grown somewhere in the backyard.

After a couple hot showers we settled into a routine of relaxation for the next few days. We spent these days sitting at Javeen Coffee across the road reminiscing about the trek and how crazy we were to partake in it. All of our friends - and we had made a bunch in Leh - were fascinated - or so we assumed - by our four day expedition. The manager, a Sikh with a very clean, white and large turbin, welcomed us as regulars at his cafe and lavished us with day-old chocolate doughnuts (not made from lard and therefore not as tasty as american doughnuts). I had the misfortune of ordering something called the "Chef's Special Burger" with no cheese and receiving a potato patty topped with heavy cream and no bun. After several attempts to fix the burger, the Sikh explained that this is how burgers are served "continental style" which sounds like B.S. but ok. Mainly we drank black tea and avoided the food here.

Changspa Road in Leh is the main hub for Israelis and is a long road loaded with chill-out restaurants, cafes and expensive internet shops. We finally decided that Crossroads restaurant had the best food and we sat there frequently; i even broke my vegetarianism and ate Tandoori Chicken there which I liked a lot. The waiter was a tall, lanky Nepali who sat with us often but said little. I only gathered that he worked here during the high season and returned to Nepal with a pocket full of cash.

A week went by quickly as we lounged in cafes, spoke with different israeli and european tourists, made friends with staff etc. We walked up to a Buddhist monastery and watched the sunset, took small bike trips around Leh, did some shopping. At Crossroads I happened to meet and talk Neitsche with a smart 22 yr old Israeli named Moshe who had just finished three years with the highly selective Sea Commando unit in the the IDF and was not smoking any hash because he was planning on working as trainer for Nigerian presidential security agents which required special drug tests.

One day in the internet shop I was temporarily annoyed by an israeli family of five who were bickering about such obviously mundane and flippant issues like how much the eldest son could chat with his friends on instant messenger while the youngest wailed on in the background from utter boredom. Later I happened to talk with the father who said they had just begun a year long trip with the family, and that this was a dream he'd always had. Good luck!

Amin was an Indian friend I made at the Wonderland Restaurant, another generic place with indian style seating and israeli-chinese-indian-italian food. Originally from Darjeeling, he had been traveling and working in the South of india in places like Goa in restaurants and cafes. He was now not working and was traveling just like the rest of us, and many nights he sat with us playing cards and drinking mint tea with honey.

Remember Nagmyal? The trek guide? He had promised to invite us to his house in the Tibetan village and a few days had passed without a word. He also said something about owning a yellow sportbike. Sitting downstairs at the Wonderland one day we saw Nagmyal drive up on just such a yellow sportbike as he had described. He looked completely different, clean, shaven, wearing form-fitting jeans with tears in just the right places and patches in others. Olik and I were so happy to see him, having completed a life-changing journey in the Himalayas with him. There was to be a Full-Moon party that night and we decided we would go together. First, I reminded Nagmyal about his promise to show us his home in the Tibetan Village. Olik and I followed him on my bike to his village about 7 km from Leh. The village is actually on the road to Manali and is a very traditional onclave with cement brick dwellings divided by crude cement walls. Each house had a yard with a couple cows or chickens and maybe a mill for grinding corn. We entered his house, saw a couple cows in the yard, expected little from the interior, and were surprised to find a well-maintained living room with a large TV and stereo speakers. Lining the walls were Ladakhy tapestries with images of horses and other animals. Off of the living room was a small kitchen with fresh cow cheese in large wooden bowls on the counter. In another room I caught glimpse of an oblivious old man who I later learned was Nagmyal's father.

Sitting down on the couch/bed Nagmyal put before us bowls of Curd. For those who don't know, curd is what the Indians's call Yoghurt, and it's a few times more repulsive then the American version. I don't eat yoghurt in general, and when its served with so many suspicious lumps there is little I can do but decline politely. "I can't eat this" was my response because I just don't care if I offend people - I just don't like it damnit! Olik grumbled something about a weak stomach after the trek but thanks so much anyways. The curd dissappeared in a flash and was replaced by store bought pound cake and two bottles of coke that Nagmyal's son had fetched from the market. While eating and drinking Nagmyal showed us pictures of his brother in the army, his brother parachuting, his brother reaching a mountain peak. More pictures of his ex-girlfriend from Japan with him in the desert and a couple of large amplifiers. More pictures of his sister (who is working in Israel for one year as migrant farmhand) and friends from the past. One picture of Nagmyal at a Tibetan freedom march.

Nagmyal then showed us a video called Nomads, about the Chinese occupation and persecution and the Tibetan struggle for independence. His family came from Tibet, he told us, fifty years ago or so, and most of his family was still there; he had never seen most of them. His father had a special visa and visited his brother and parents in Tibet regularly, but Nagmyal had never visited. He dreamed now of getting a visa to visit family he'd never seen.

We left Nagmyal's house after meeting his mom who offered us a couple pieces of fresh cow cheese which Olik accepted and I declined and rode to a peaceful spot overlooking the Indus river. We talked more about Nagmyals plans to work in Europe and save enough money to come back and open a trekking equipment store in Ladakh and tried to convince him to come to Israel instead. The full-moon shined brightly on the Indus as we chatted into the night. At ten we headed back to Leh in time for the full moon party.

Everyone was waiting at K.C. Garden whose owners were throwing the party. Lots of israelis and european tourists waiting for buses to take them to a secret location. Olik and I rode the bike behind the bus and arrived at the secret location after 25 minutes. The party was in the middle of a huge field surrounded by mountains and we danced until 7 AM.

After a few days lounging about and doing nothing particular except for enjoying myself, I decided to take a motorcycle trip to one of the surrounding areas. Nubra Valley is about six hours from Leh and we decided to go visit.