Spiritual trek
in the Himalayas leads to Dalai Lama
Niña P.
Calleja Philippine Daily
Inquirer August 21st,
2016
LIVING UP TO ITS NAME
Nestled some 5,000 meters above sea level, the trail leading to the
Ganda La mountain pass in the Himalayas offers a spectacular view
of rocky terrain from all sides. NIÑA CALLEJA
LADAKH, India—It was
high noon and I was gasping for breath as my trekking companions
and I crossed Ganda La, a high mountain pass in the Himalayas. At
close to 5,000 meters above sea level, the pass along a barren
rocky terrain can easily make one dizzy.
I had set out on a
seven-day trek to the Markha Valley of the Himalayas, a
75-kilometer route popular among visitors to this region. With me
were four men from Israel, Australia, the Netherlands and France,
and a local trekking guide whom I had just met at the start of our
trek on Aug. 3.
I would be the slowest in
the group, I warned them on our first day. I had thought I
was well prepared for the long trek, having practiced yoga for a
month in Dharamshala in the Himachal Pradesh state of India, but
true enough, my companions ended up miles ahead of me.
“Small steps and deep
breaths,” Uri, our Israeli trekking companion said. That early, I
knew the Himalayas were set to test not just our physical strength
but our character as well.
I pushed on, one step at a
time, until I saw the wall of carved stone tablets inscribed with
the Tibetan mantra “Om Mani Padme Hung” which, according to Tibetan
culture, contains all the teachings of the Buddha.
Prayer flags
The Tibetan prayer walls,
along with the colorful prayer flags fluttering in the breeze were
a welcome sight, marking the top of the pass and buoying hopes
among us that a village was nearby.
My trekking companions had
been waiting for me at the top of Ganda La pass. We feasted on our
packed lunches– cold and hardened chapati smeared with honey and
butter, a popular staple in South Asia; boiled egg and potatoes
wrapped in aluminum foil; a chocolate bar, and orange juice in
tetra pack.
At the same time, we were
treated to the glorious view of the immense Himalayan ranges, an
out of this world desert landscape on all sides. The road to
Leh, a city in Ladakh, is open to motorists for only four and a
half months, from May to mid-October, as snowfall blocks the high
passes on other months of the year.
The second day of the trek
was our longest, as we had to walk more than 12 hours to reach our
homestay for the night. “When was the last time you had walked this
long?” Joe, our Australian group mate, asked during our 11th hour
on the trail.
I told him I had trekked to
Mount Apo, the tallest mountain in the Philippines in 2014, and
that my friends and I did it in three days, instead of the usual
four or five days. He told me his was in Mount Mayon in the 1990s,
with an Israeli mountaineer he had met there.
Blisters
I could have easily endured
this day were it not for the blisters on my feet. Walking in my
trekking boots proved too painful so I changed to sandals. It was
slowgoing, and I had no first aid kit, an absolute necessity for
this kind of trek. Fortunately, Erick, our kindhearted Dutch
companion, had thought about blisters before coming to the
Himalayas. “It is nice to unload some weight,” he said,
handing me his pack of first aid supplies. Every night I would
treat my blister-covered feet with betadine ointment and
bandages.
The seven-day trek had been
meditative for me, a spiritual journey that gave me time to observe
equanimity as we continued the long and arduous walk. India was,
for me, the best country for spiritual exploration, being the
birthplace of the world’s major religions. Many cultural traditions
also regard the Himalayas as a sacred place and the home of the
Gods.
Ladakh, which borders Tibet
to the east, has a rich Buddhist culture evident in every household
here, with their small shrines that had a picture of the Dalai Lama
at the center. Other Buddhist statues and offering bowls, like a
jar of barley grains, were also on display.
Homestays
After our grueling trek, we
sought refuge in homestays with Ladakhi families in their homes of
sun-dried mudbricks and stone walls adorned with yak’s hair and
horns. It was the best way to immerse one’s self into the region’s
culture.
There were touching
attempts to bridge the language barrier, as when our female host
offered us a cup of local wine made from barley. “Chaang, chaang?”
she asked her mystified guests. After she showed us some
grains of barley, I took a sip and felt warmth in my throat.
“Good,” I said, giving her the thumbs up sign.
We spent our last night in
a tent in Nimaling, a beautiful and vast green pasture land in
Markha Valley, with a view of the snowcapped Kang Yatze
mountain. It was freezing cold and the heavy rain in the
night made it worse.
On our last day, we had to
cross the last and highest pass called Gongmaru La, which has an
elevation of 5,130 meters. I reached the top after three hours and
basked in the collective feeling of triumph among some Germans who
had arrived before me. But not everybody was pleased.
Our Ladakhi guide, in fact, reprimanded me. “I have been
waiting for you for the last 30 minutes,” he complained.
No
compassion
I lost my cool. This was
not the first time he scolded me. On our third day, he told me I
didn’t have the “energy to acclimatize” and that I should not have
chosen the Markha Valley trek. So this time I shot back that he
could go ahead anytime as I did not need a guide. It was easy
enough to navigate the trail replete with footprints and horse
manure most of the time.
Later in the afternoon, I
found my group mates and our guide resting inside a tent, which
served as a tea shop for trekkers taking a break. I had not sat two
minutes when our guide said we should go as we had been delayed so
much. He was about to say how long he had been waiting for me when
I cut in: “You claim to be Buddhist, but you lack
compassion!” For me, Buddhism is synonymous to love and
compassion.
“Julley”
I burst into tears on the
last stretch of the trek, probably because of anger and
exhaustion. Along the river, a Ladakhi woman greeted me.
“Julley,” she said, which in Ladakh means both “hello” and “thank
you.” I sobbed even harder because she looked like my mother when
she was younger. I have always been mistaken for a local because
the Ladakhis bear much resemblance to Filipinos.
It was close to 5 in the
afternoon when we reached Shang Sumdo village where a van that
would take us to Leh waited. “We made it,” I said, feeling a
sense of accomplishment despite all my energy being
depleted.
But my journey would not be
complete without finding the Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of
Tibet. I thought that since I would be staying in McLeod Ganj, a
suburb in Dharamsala, to practice yoga for a month, this
possibility was not too remote.
Finding the Dalai Lama
Since his escape from the
Chinese authorities in Tibet in 1959, the 14th Dalai Lama has been
residing in McLeod Ganj along with the Tibetan government in
exile.
I had seen Martin
Scorsese’s “Kundun,” the 1997 film about the Dalai Lama from the
time he was found by the search teams looking for the latest
reincarnation of the last Dalai Lama, up to his dramatic escape to
India.
I was in McLeod Ganj when
the Tibetans celebrated the Dalai Lama’s 81st birthday, but he was
in the southern part of India at that time, I was told. So I
abandoned any hope of seeing him at all and continued my journey to
Leh in Ladakh.
On my return from the trek,
I heard from the locals that he was visiting and would be holding a
public teaching in Thiksey Monastery on top of a hill.
After a shared taxi ride to
Thiksey early the next day, I found the grounds below the monastery
filled with thousands and sought a media spot at the aisle within
striking distance of the Dalai Lama. Having coverEd the
historic state visit of Pope Francis to Manila in January 2015, I
saw how different the security and people’s reaction to the two
religious leaders were. The people around the Dalai Lama were more
contemplative and there was no mad rush to get near or touch him. A
local policeman even allowed me to take photos near the stage even
if I didn’t have a press ID.
So there he was—the Dalai
Lama, sitting on a wide golden chair and speaking in Tibetan, which
was being translated to Ladakhi over a loudspeaker. While I
couldn’t understand a word, I was sure his three-hour long speech
was sprinkled with anecdotes and jokes because he often laughed and
smiled.
Asking the Dalai Lama
I was completely
mesmerized. I had actually thought of approaching him and asking
one political question—about China—but the journalists following
him said this was not possible as I have to write his office a
request letter first.
But just seeing the Dalai
Lama was enough; it was a beautiful experience that capped my 10
days in the “Land of High Passes,” as Ladakh is known.