Dharamsala Home Sweet Home

I find myself steeped in good memories of McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala, where I lived and continued research for over two months after I finished traveling through Spiti, Lahaul, and Ladakh.

Home of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, Namgyal Monastery, the Tibetan government-in-exile, and a Tibetan and Indian community, this former British hill station in the foothills of the Himalayas attracts visitors from far and wide. They come to attend teachings, events, study, volunteer, get involved. There are a large number of Western expats living here, too.

I descended from the high altitudes and arrived in McLeod Ganj (approx. 6000 feet altitude) end of September. It was surprisingly still monsoon season, which is usually over by mid-month. But 2013 was a particularly long and relentless monsoon. Everyone agreed. It lasted well into October, and I was drenched many times mistakenly thinking I could quickly go from point A to point B and not get too wet.

The area is one of the wettest in the state of Himachal Pradesh, with up to 120 inches of rain from July to mid-September. 120 inches! In six weeks. That’s 20 inches a week, almost 3 inches a day! You gird yourself for constant moisture, fog, mold, and mildew. Hanging laundry takes close to two days to dry. Resident friends warned me to safeguard all my electronics by putting them in a closet with hot lamps shining on them. It’s practically a whiteout at times, dangerous for driving because you can’t see beyond 10 or 12 feet in front of you on mountainous hairpin turns.

Downpours pelt you like sheets of water performing a sports arena wave (you know, where sports fans get up from their seats and raise their arms overhead in succession). No really, you can actually see this phenomena of denser sheets of rain cascading across less dense ones over the valleys and on the streets. An umbrella is futile. I used one anyway out of stubborn habit, and I was almost always ruefully muttering to myself when I arrived some place with clothing stuck to me like I had put them on straight out of a washing machine with a broken spin cycle. I finally learned that when a Dharamsala monsoon rain starts, you WILL be drenched unless you duck for cover. I started carrying a poncho. And there is a reason why locals wear flip flops and brave the wet streets open-toed. It’s because normal shoes become spongy, perpetually dank and musty.

And then, one day, it’s over! The clouds and mist clear up. The horizon expands and Dharamsala, or Dasa as it is fondly called for short, looks like this.

Glorious and crisp, far as your eye can see. Warm and sunny.

The street vendors no longer have to cover their wares from rain and mud with tarp.

People enjoy outdoor dining and cafes again.

This was my usual walk on Temple Road back to where I was staying, near Namgyal Monastery.

Stores that I became acquainted with along the way.

I was a regular at this stationary store. Go figure, I just never had enough pens or pads or envelopes, or superglue. I bought paper clasps here which served as clothespins or toothpaste tube holders, or food clips. Travel makes me look at objects more resourcefully.

This shop always caught my eye with its colorful display.

At left, the location of a trusty ATM machine! Very important. I was grateful that it always worked, which is not always the case elsewhere in India.

This is the raucous main square of McLeod Ganj, where several main roads converge. Where buses, taxis, and tourists depart and arrive. Where there is sure to be traffic jams throughout the day caused by congestion, narrow roads, crossing people animals.

During my time in Dasa, I had the fortune of attending no less than three of the Dalai Lama’s teachings at Namgyal Monastery, including a Mind & Life conference, which I wrote about here. I also had the honor of audience with local rinpoches, geshes, monks and administrators, as well as observing and documenting the annual Yamantaka highest yoga tantra ritual.

In addition, I attended the Tibetan Film Festival, as well as the Dharamsala International Film Festival, both held at Tibetan Institute for Performing Arts (TIPA).

Plus, a number of music-poetry-art fusion events staged by local artists. Poetry would be read during live musical performances, while a painter begins and completes a painting on canvas in one evening.

There was a revolving door of gatherings, which I’m grateful to Dasa friends for inviting me to. Diwali celebrations, dinners, movie nights, artist meetings, music jams, salons, fundraisers. Truly warm, good times.

When not out and about, I was in my apartment, which incidentally came with a kitty. She showed up on my terrace one day.

I must say she was a welcome visitor. Although she left a lot of nose smears looking in through my newly cleaned window, she did accompany me many days as I sat indoors editing footage, photo-correcting, researching, and writing.

Which reminds me of a story I heard about the Dalai Lama, who once had two cats as pets. After they spent their last days with him in his palace, he decided he would not have pets anymore–too much attachment!

Yes, indeed, I was sad to leave this little one, but happy to learn that she actually belonged to my neighbor.

On my last day in Dharamsala, I left a bag of cat food at their doorstep, then went for a final kora around the monastery complex on this fine, scintillating morning.

All photos © 2013, Eva Lee.