Saturday, October 17, 2009
De retour après quelques difficultés technologiques (un disque dur surchauffé à Bangkok après le téléchargement de la nouvelle saison de quelques séries américaines dont nous tairons le nom ici, ainsi que le chargeur du Nikon qui nous a lâché, faute au courant indien dont le (sur)voltage imprévisible ne peut être comparé qu'à celui d'une seule personne que je connaisse).
Qu'à cela ne tienne, à l'époque de DHL, Sven et mon frère Thierry nous ont repourvu en matériel tout neuf, un grand merci à eux deux!
Le voyage commence
Alors que la Thaïlande ne fut qu'une Suisse déguisée en plus douce, avec un côté plus easy-going, (j'avais l'impression de voyager chez moi, avec les espresso, le Macdo, les DVD, ..............)avec mais cela ne suffisait pas, en terme de transformation, à ce que l'on peut (désire?) attendre d'un voyage. L'Inde, pour nous servir, est restée fidèle. L'arrivée à Calcutta fut très chaotique: semaine fériée, déplacements en masse pour la durga-puja, taxis rares et onéreux, magasins fermés, trains bondés.
Peu armés de patience, vertu cardinale dont nous furent faiblement dotés à la naissance, nous nous vîmes vivre un calvaire intérieur en résonance avec la saleté, le bruit incessant des klaxons, le harcèlement des indiens, la tentative permanente de nous faire payer, payer davantage, payer plus encore, et puis l'attente pour acheter un billet de train, trouver un taxi, les bouchons, et puis ces touristes occidentaux qui nous paraissaient ternes, peu intéressés, sans grande envie de partager ou de même saluer leurs congénères.
Le calvaire. Où était donc l'Inde chaleureuse et magique de nos souvenirs?
Alors nous fuîmes, bifurquâmes vers Darjeeling, avec l'espoir d'une retraite vers des cieux plus calmes, plus bleus, plus sereins.
Il n'en fut rien. Malgré l'espoir que nous donnaient les champs de plantations de thé et leurs verts chatoyants, malgré la fraicheur de l'eau et de l'air, le soir venu, nous ne voyions que les fumées des moteurs diesel mal réglés des Jeep, nous n'entendions que les klaxons incessants de leurs conducteurs, et après une nuit harassantes, nous eurent grand peine à enfin trouver une chambre très jolie et bon marché (300 INR, environ 7 francs).
La fuite n'en demeurait que partie remise, nous décidâmes de nous embarquer dans un trek au Sikkim.
Le responsable de l'agence de trek étant d'un positivisme sans faille, il nous convainquit rapidement que le trek ne représentait aucun problème, qu'il allait faire beau, que nous n'aurions pas froid ni le mal des montagnes.
Tout s'avéra inexact.
Il plut des cordes, la tente prenait l'eau, le feu était interdit dans la réserve naturelle, le brouillard nous glaçait les veines, la boue devint notre amie inséparable et le mal des montagnes, avec sa pression univoque sur les tempes,
Mais cette expérience si crue, si brute (la pluie, le brouillard, la boue, la nourriture, le froid, et ce mal de tête unique, cette pression sur les tempes en grimpant) nous permit de dépasser, de sublimer ces restes de mauvaise humeur occidentale qui nous empêchait d'être là, pleinement présent, accueillant du même coup ce qui allait être notre réalité de voyageur.
(loving and happy)
{Totally. It was pretty hard core – and twice we hesitated to do the same as several trekking teams we met: go back down. But then, when we got Up There, above the trees and the noise and habitual thought, we remembered why it was we were doing this... Then we remembered why they say that this is the home of the gods. The soothing rythm of the small steps (I love how the thin air of the altitude forces me to slow down...), just walk, just walk, making you forget the cold and hunger and with every one of those repetitive steps the dance of the demons attack-->letting go... demons attack-->letting go... In the sleepless nights or light sleep of altitude the demons of old memories and schemata grow and you can't wait to get into the soothing walking again. The Silence. Just the sooting steps, not wanting to stop, the energy to walk is not ours, it comes from the rocks itself. Subtlely, the transformation installs itself and so many layers of old hang-ups just evaporate. It's so subtle, and not accompanied by thoughts, so it's when you come down that you realize the extent of what has been operating. Coming back to « civilization », suddenly the whole vibe seemed changed. People smiling back to us everywhere, meeting awesome locals and travellers every day, from whom we learn tons and spend hours of deep and fun talking and sharing. India really is a mirror, reflecting back on you your mental state at all times. It's like a yard stick. When you're impatient and judging, it can be a nightmare. And when you surrender and go with it, it's indescribably wonderful.
I couldn't believe how well it went with the kids (!!). I kept waiting for them to start whining but it didn't start... Where did those creatures come from??}
Le retour à Darjeeling nous permit alors d'être satisfait, de commencer à nous sentir comme des poissons dans l'eau.
Et c'est beau Darjeeling!
Le Kangchengjunga, 3ème montagne du monde, vu depuis la terrasse de l'hôtel
Voilà le leurre, rien n'avait changé, sauf notre présence, devenue plus réelle après le nettoyage du Sikkim, nous permettant de voir le monde de manière plus positive, sans le brouillard de nos frustrations, de nos attentes et de ce sale ego occidental, habitué à ce que tout fonctionne de manière impatiente)
Encore une manifestation du Lego-factor.
Qu'à cela ne tienne, à l'époque de DHL, Sven et mon frère Thierry nous ont repourvu en matériel tout neuf, un grand merci à eux deux!
Le voyage commence
Alors que la Thaïlande ne fut qu'une Suisse déguisée en plus douce, avec un côté plus easy-going, (j'avais l'impression de voyager chez moi, avec les espresso, le Macdo, les DVD, ..............)avec mais cela ne suffisait pas, en terme de transformation, à ce que l'on peut (désire?) attendre d'un voyage. L'Inde, pour nous servir, est restée fidèle. L'arrivée à Calcutta fut très chaotique: semaine fériée, déplacements en masse pour la durga-puja, taxis rares et onéreux, magasins fermés, trains bondés.
Peu armés de patience, vertu cardinale dont nous furent faiblement dotés à la naissance, nous nous vîmes vivre un calvaire intérieur en résonance avec la saleté, le bruit incessant des klaxons, le harcèlement des indiens, la tentative permanente de nous faire payer, payer davantage, payer plus encore, et puis l'attente pour acheter un billet de train, trouver un taxi, les bouchons, et puis ces touristes occidentaux qui nous paraissaient ternes, peu intéressés, sans grande envie de partager ou de même saluer leurs congénères.
Le calvaire. Où était donc l'Inde chaleureuse et magique de nos souvenirs?
Alors nous fuîmes, bifurquâmes vers Darjeeling, avec l'espoir d'une retraite vers des cieux plus calmes, plus bleus, plus sereins.
Il n'en fut rien. Malgré l'espoir que nous donnaient les champs de plantations de thé et leurs verts chatoyants, malgré la fraicheur de l'eau et de l'air, le soir venu, nous ne voyions que les fumées des moteurs diesel mal réglés des Jeep, nous n'entendions que les klaxons incessants de leurs conducteurs, et après une nuit harassantes, nous eurent grand peine à enfin trouver une chambre très jolie et bon marché (300 INR, environ 7 francs).
La fuite n'en demeurait que partie remise, nous décidâmes de nous embarquer dans un trek au Sikkim.
Le responsable de l'agence de trek étant d'un positivisme sans faille, il nous convainquit rapidement que le trek ne représentait aucun problème, qu'il allait faire beau, que nous n'aurions pas froid ni le mal des montagnes.
Tout s'avéra inexact.
Il plut des cordes, la tente prenait l'eau, le feu était interdit dans la réserve naturelle, le brouillard nous glaçait les veines, la boue devint notre amie inséparable et le mal des montagnes, avec sa pression univoque sur les tempes,
Mais cette expérience si crue, si brute (la pluie, le brouillard, la boue, la nourriture, le froid, et ce mal de tête unique, cette pression sur les tempes en grimpant) nous permit de dépasser, de sublimer ces restes de mauvaise humeur occidentale qui nous empêchait d'être là, pleinement présent, accueillant du même coup ce qui allait être notre réalité de voyageur.
(loving and happy)
{Totally. It was pretty hard core – and twice we hesitated to do the same as several trekking teams we met: go back down. But then, when we got Up There, above the trees and the noise and habitual thought, we remembered why it was we were doing this... Then we remembered why they say that this is the home of the gods. The soothing rythm of the small steps (I love how the thin air of the altitude forces me to slow down...), just walk, just walk, making you forget the cold and hunger and with every one of those repetitive steps the dance of the demons attack-->letting go... demons attack-->letting go... In the sleepless nights or light sleep of altitude the demons of old memories and schemata grow and you can't wait to get into the soothing walking again. The Silence. Just the sooting steps, not wanting to stop, the energy to walk is not ours, it comes from the rocks itself. Subtlely, the transformation installs itself and so many layers of old hang-ups just evaporate. It's so subtle, and not accompanied by thoughts, so it's when you come down that you realize the extent of what has been operating. Coming back to « civilization », suddenly the whole vibe seemed changed. People smiling back to us everywhere, meeting awesome locals and travellers every day, from whom we learn tons and spend hours of deep and fun talking and sharing. India really is a mirror, reflecting back on you your mental state at all times. It's like a yard stick. When you're impatient and judging, it can be a nightmare. And when you surrender and go with it, it's indescribably wonderful.
I couldn't believe how well it went with the kids (!!). I kept waiting for them to start whining but it didn't start... Where did those creatures come from??}
Le retour à Darjeeling nous permit alors d'être satisfait, de commencer à nous sentir comme des poissons dans l'eau.
Et c'est beau Darjeeling!
Le Kangchengjunga, 3ème montagne du monde, vu depuis la terrasse de l'hôtel
Voilà le leurre, rien n'avait changé, sauf notre présence, devenue plus réelle après le nettoyage du Sikkim, nous permettant de voir le monde de manière plus positive, sans le brouillard de nos frustrations, de nos attentes et de ce sale ego occidental, habitué à ce que tout fonctionne de manière impatiente)
Encore une manifestation du Lego-factor.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Ok, I must admit something: I feel extremely clumsy with every word I choose to describe India - almost unworthy... I have so many thoughts, such strong experiences, and putting them in words just reduces it all to something less than it is.
However, I came across this passage in Shantaram (the novel I'd been wanting to read for a while and that I happily found in the huge generous library of our guest house), which describes one of the huge number of contradictory, subtle, frustrating, wonderful, funny, incomprehensible, lovely, witty characteristics of India (and that anyone who's traveled simply in India will know... :):
"In fact, the terminal was simply a vast open patch of rough ground that served as a staging area for dozens of long-distance coaches. We drifted from bus to bus for half an hour, carrying our bulky luggage. I couldn't read the Hindi and Marathi texts on the front and side of each bus. Prabaker could read the signs, but still he felt it necessary to ask every driver about his destination.
'Doesn't it tell you where every bus is going, on the front of the bus?' I demanded, irritated by the delay.
'Yes, Lin. See, this one says Aurangabad, and that one says Ajanta, and that one says Chalisgao, and that one says--'
'Yeah, yeah. So... why do we have to ask every driver where he's going?'
'Oh!' he exclaimed, genuinely surprised by the question. 'Because not every sign is truly sign.'
'What do you mean, NOT TRULY SIGN?'
He stopped, putting down his share of the luggage, and offered me a smile of indulgent patience.
'Well, Lin, you see, some of those driving fellows are going to places that is NOBODY wants to go to.; Little places, they are, with a few people only. So, they put a sign for a more popular place.'
'You're telling me that they put a sign up saying they're going to a big town, where lots of people want to go, but they're really going somewhere else, where nobody wants to go?'
'That's right, Lin,' he beamed.
'Why?'
'You see, because those people who come to them, to go to the popular place, well, maybe the driver can convince them to go to the not/popular place. It's for business, Lin. It's a business thing.'
'That's crazy,' I said, exasperated.
'You must have it a bit of sympathies for these fellows, Lin. If they put the truly sign on their bus, no-one will talk to them, in the whole day, and they will be very lonely.
'Oh, well NOW I understand,' I muttered, sarcastically. 'We wouldn't want them to feel lonely.'
'I know, Lin,' Prabaker smiled. 'You have a very good hearts in your bodies.' "
However, I came across this passage in Shantaram (the novel I'd been wanting to read for a while and that I happily found in the huge generous library of our guest house), which describes one of the huge number of contradictory, subtle, frustrating, wonderful, funny, incomprehensible, lovely, witty characteristics of India (and that anyone who's traveled simply in India will know... :):
"In fact, the terminal was simply a vast open patch of rough ground that served as a staging area for dozens of long-distance coaches. We drifted from bus to bus for half an hour, carrying our bulky luggage. I couldn't read the Hindi and Marathi texts on the front and side of each bus. Prabaker could read the signs, but still he felt it necessary to ask every driver about his destination.
'Doesn't it tell you where every bus is going, on the front of the bus?' I demanded, irritated by the delay.
'Yes, Lin. See, this one says Aurangabad, and that one says Ajanta, and that one says Chalisgao, and that one says--'
'Yeah, yeah. So... why do we have to ask every driver where he's going?'
'Oh!' he exclaimed, genuinely surprised by the question. 'Because not every sign is truly sign.'
'What do you mean, NOT TRULY SIGN?'
He stopped, putting down his share of the luggage, and offered me a smile of indulgent patience.
'Well, Lin, you see, some of those driving fellows are going to places that is NOBODY wants to go to.; Little places, they are, with a few people only. So, they put a sign for a more popular place.'
'You're telling me that they put a sign up saying they're going to a big town, where lots of people want to go, but they're really going somewhere else, where nobody wants to go?'
'That's right, Lin,' he beamed.
'Why?'
'You see, because those people who come to them, to go to the popular place, well, maybe the driver can convince them to go to the not/popular place. It's for business, Lin. It's a business thing.'
'That's crazy,' I said, exasperated.
'You must have it a bit of sympathies for these fellows, Lin. If they put the truly sign on their bus, no-one will talk to them, in the whole day, and they will be very lonely.
'Oh, well NOW I understand,' I muttered, sarcastically. 'We wouldn't want them to feel lonely.'
'I know, Lin,' Prabaker smiled. 'You have a very good hearts in your bodies.' "
So, the details of the trek will be 8 days 9 nights:
Yuksam to Tshoka, (17km) halt at 2950m
Tshoka to Dzongri halt at 3950m
Dzongri to Thansing halt at 3850m
Thangsing to Lhamune halt at 4200m
Lhamune to Goachala 4950m, via Samiti Lake, Yemathang viewpoint 4500m, Khanchendyonga view point and back towards Kokchrong
Kokchrong to Tshoka 17km
Tshoka to Yuksam
One of the guides has been working with a Swiss guy, Ulrich Schmid, to rid the trek of garbage left behind, it's wonderful to see the engagement of the locals and to start to brainstorm on how to bring this energy and attitude to a greater level in India. Indians love their nature and at the same time keep polluting and wasting so much; the politicians are so corrupt (for example apparently, the road in front of our guest house was sparkling new, pristine black asphalt, 6 months ago and is already full of huge wholes and rocks, because the politicians put 80% of the funds into their pocket and the work was of poor quality); how can we help??
I got an email from someone I know who has been committing his precious time for fund-raising for the most famous dance company of the Swiss Romande - the ones who charge around 100$ per entry to a show and already receive massive financial support from different Swiss government agencies. Last month, 10'000 people died of hunger in 3 states in India. The contrast between different types of charity work is astonishing (and slightly nauseating) to me. Please give feed-back, if interested: are there any more urgent issues than 1) saving our planet and 2) diminishing poverty?
Yuksam to Tshoka, (17km) halt at 2950m
Tshoka to Dzongri halt at 3950m
Dzongri to Thansing halt at 3850m
Thangsing to Lhamune halt at 4200m
Lhamune to Goachala 4950m, via Samiti Lake, Yemathang viewpoint 4500m, Khanchendyonga view point and back towards Kokchrong
Kokchrong to Tshoka 17km
Tshoka to Yuksam
One of the guides has been working with a Swiss guy, Ulrich Schmid, to rid the trek of garbage left behind, it's wonderful to see the engagement of the locals and to start to brainstorm on how to bring this energy and attitude to a greater level in India. Indians love their nature and at the same time keep polluting and wasting so much; the politicians are so corrupt (for example apparently, the road in front of our guest house was sparkling new, pristine black asphalt, 6 months ago and is already full of huge wholes and rocks, because the politicians put 80% of the funds into their pocket and the work was of poor quality); how can we help??
I got an email from someone I know who has been committing his precious time for fund-raising for the most famous dance company of the Swiss Romande - the ones who charge around 100$ per entry to a show and already receive massive financial support from different Swiss government agencies. Last month, 10'000 people died of hunger in 3 states in India. The contrast between different types of charity work is astonishing (and slightly nauseating) to me. Please give feed-back, if interested: are there any more urgent issues than 1) saving our planet and 2) diminishing poverty?
Saturday, October 3, 2009
थे रेक इस बूकेद!
hahhaa now the headlines come out in Hindi, not Thai: looks even cooler ;-D
The trek is booked: we leave tomorrow for Yuksum and will spend 8 days trekking; the guide has his own yaks and and tents and seems like a great guy; glad to have an alternative for the kids to ride when the walking days get too long). Today we buy last minute equipment
The India-shock has slowly transformed itself to the deep India-joy *so so happy* (it is fascinating, though, to see what different people we are today; R and I notice how so much has changed in us since the last India trip 12 years ago).
The kids have a gang of friends, kids of Nepalese origin (most people are originally Nepalese here), we're hanging out with their parents, aaaaahhh the SMILES! the humor! the teasing! loving it
People are much less poor here than in Kolkata. But I still get such urges to help, somehow, there is so much need, and so little one can do... Still hard to face it, especially for Tara. And then again there are the smiles... dozens of them every minute (the kind you get only once a month from a stranger in the West). So much to say, such clumsy, half-finished thoughts and feelings. more later :)
Trying to find a solution for posting pics, dying to share some of them with you guys. Until then, sending you my warmest greetings (love you guys)
The trek is booked: we leave tomorrow for Yuksum and will spend 8 days trekking; the guide has his own yaks and and tents and seems like a great guy; glad to have an alternative for the kids to ride when the walking days get too long). Today we buy last minute equipment
The India-shock has slowly transformed itself to the deep India-joy *so so happy* (it is fascinating, though, to see what different people we are today; R and I notice how so much has changed in us since the last India trip 12 years ago).
The kids have a gang of friends, kids of Nepalese origin (most people are originally Nepalese here), we're hanging out with their parents, aaaaahhh the SMILES! the humor! the teasing! loving it
People are much less poor here than in Kolkata. But I still get such urges to help, somehow, there is so much need, and so little one can do... Still hard to face it, especially for Tara. And then again there are the smiles... dozens of them every minute (the kind you get only once a month from a stranger in the West). So much to say, such clumsy, half-finished thoughts and feelings. more later :)
Trying to find a solution for posting pics, dying to share some of them with you guys. Until then, sending you my warmest greetings (love you guys)
Erratum!
The mountains we can see from our guest house roof top are not the Anapurna range... It's the Kangchenjunga (third highest mountain in the world); it's truly incredible. There's this layer of shady distance between the nearest mountains and the snowy tops, that makes it seem like the mountains are literally hanging in the air...
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Greetings from Darjeeling!
uhm... did I say I was craving for intensity?... well India's offered us that, GALORE, wow wow wow, in all ways and on all levels (still catching my breath and reminding myself that the first step to feeling the joy of India is SURRENDER and letting something in oneself die, the part of one's mind that just doesn't compute with this place). As we catch our breath and get rid of our respective colds, we are prepping our first trek (can't wait). The mountains are beautiful, Anapurna in the distance, shining golden at sunrise.
Our mac's hard disc crashed so it'll be a while until we can post our pics but send lots of love to all!
Our mac's hard disc crashed so it'll be a while until we can post our pics but send lots of love to all!
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