Having bailed out from the slightly oppressive vibe on the farm, I moved to a hotel in the town of Mcleod Ganj, just north of Dharamsala. Mcleod is the town most people are referring to when they say Dharamsala. This is where the Dalai Lama’s temple and residence are. It’s a town full of Tibetan refugees, Indians who have lived here since before the influx from Tibet, and many many western tourists. The tourists apparently seem to fall into one of three categories: (1) backpackers, (2) Buddhists and folks concerned with the Tibetan cause, and (3) people who come here to visit and just never leave. It’s that kind of place. A little surreal, peaceful as northern India goes, incredibly beautiful, and somehow contagious. I can’t say I really like the town, in fact I’m looking forward to leaving, but I can see how someone could come here and just forget to go home. (In my case, it helps that this seems to be the best source of coffee I’ve found in India. You can actually get something resembling a proper espresso at random bohemian looking cafes around town. One of them even makes great cake and muffins. Other than that, though, it’s not the place for a foodie. It’s been nearly impossible to track down a decent meal. The food seems safe and clean enough, but completely devoid of flavour, variety, and texture.)
I stayed here a little longer than planned. It was meant to be a couple days of respite, but then I heard that the Dalai Lama was giving a teaching at the temple on November 9. It was a great experience to get to attend a teaching by His Holiness at the temple, but I have to admit I didn’t get the great spiritual experience from it that I might have hoped for. There were hoards of people, and you could hardly get a glimpse of him. (Although when I did, he was of course sporting that amazing jubilant smile he always has.) He speaks in Tibetan, and they have simultaneous translation over FM radio. The crappy radio I bought didn’t work, so I had to leave to buy a new radio, which sort of worked, but it was tough to follow the intense Buddhist philosophy with Tibetan going into one ear and a scratchy translated English voice in the other. Still, a pretty amazing thing to be there.
The Dalai Lama’s teaching coincided with Diwali, the Hindi festival of lights. It’s a crazy day of fireworks and firecrackers. I was just hoping not to get hit with random crackers being thrown into the streets. It sounded like bombs were going off all over town. I suspect there was some drinking going on as well, and thought better of taking the all night bus through the mountains that night, so the return to Delhi was put off for yet another day.
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