And Then There WereThree

We all woke up for breakfast at Nick’s once again. We actually have been there every day we have been in Mcleod Ganj. The reason has been due to this elusive dessert we have been waiting for: banoffi pie. Now, it’s not really that big of a deal…it’s simply banana coated in toffee/caramel, and dished out on a dessert crust. But since the first day we have been here, and Hanan made a comment about how banoffi pie is (and since every time we have gone to Nick’s they’ve been out), we made it a mission to get this pie once and for all. We ended up buying an entire round of banoffi pie and downed it in 5 minutes flat, with mixed reviews. It was all right, but my favorites are still coconut-chocolate dishes.
We broke up after wards to get some last minute shopping for Hanan and Amber. I helped Hanan select three handmade singing bowls with good tones, which was actually a lot harder than it may sound. We had to try every bowl in the shop and see which sounds suited our fancies, and then retry the other bowls to see if we really didn’t like them, and once again try to the bowls to double check if they sounded good. I, personally, am one to think that if you like the sound, you like the sound, but Hanan is meticulous in his purchases and wanted just the right sounds.
We met up for lunch at Peace CafÈ before sending Hanan and Amber off in a Jeep back to Delhi for their flights. It was bittersweet to send them off; our group of five was so much fun and worked so well together. But we parted smiling, saying, “See you in New York! Get ready for class!”
Tara, Maulin and I were left watching their Jeep ride off, and wondering what to do now for the rest of the day. Being all so easy going, we actually struggled a bit with making plans: I don’t care, what about this?, sure I don’t mind, what do you want to do?... So we walked around and landed in an Internet cafÈ to check out our emails. I am always amazed at how much can pile up in the course of a few days without having email access. In the states, I often feel like nothing happens and that I get no emails. Here, I’m still plowing through tons of emails, professional and personal.
We came back to the hotel to figure out a day trip in a few days with Javid. To put a plug out there for Pink House, Javid is incredibly helpful! He has really great advice about where to eat, what to do where, and what is the best way to get around to areas outside of tiny Mcleod Ganj. He also has been able to do the booking for us in our day trips and departures from the area. And he will also continue a nice conversation with you about your life, his life.
While talking about our day trip, Javid put out some whiskey for us to taste with him as we talked about his experiences in the business, and about his life in Kashmir. It is one thing to read in magazines about what certain areas of the world are like and the dangers of being there, but it’s a completely different experience when someone you are sitting in front of you tells you their story. He was telling us stories about certain militants doing really awful things to him and his friends as students, being locked in campuses while other areas are gunned down, friends whose whole families would be slaughtered by a group of men, and real terrorism. He spoke with such honesty, and his tales of growing up as a Kashmiri, as well as his struggles being Kashmiri and Indian, spellbound me.
We left a while after our talk with Javid, stunned silent, to have a simple dinner at Norling before everything in the area closed. Most things in this town close around 9pm, it seems. Early nights and early days seem to be the Indian way. At least we have balconies on our rooms to sit out and talk on after hours.

The next day we experienced the massive pancakes as Peace CafÈ, with a very large banana layer on top of the cake-depth of the pancakes. It was kind of like giant sweet Tibetan bread, which reminds me of an English muffin to a degree, only with a sour taste and slippery outside.
We failed at finding astrologers to read our charts, and succeeded in finding another street that we had yet to scale the days before.
We found ourselves going to the Tibet Museum, where we learned all about the basic history of Tibet and the tragic stories of them and the Buddhist monks’ experiences of being controlled and abused by the Chinese occupation, as well of their incredible stories of exile. Some of the pictures were hard to see, and often I found myself feeling a sense of hopelessness while reading some of the terrible things that they had to incur. But then I would try to remember that these people survived, and are living now safely in India where they all seem to be picking up the pieces from shattered Tibet. I am in awe of what they have been through, and how strong they are to hike all the way here to find better, peaceful lives for themselves AND STILL have the hopes to return to an emancipated Tibet.
The Buddhist monastery has a cafÈ attached to it to help teach some of the refugee youth some skills that they can use; cooking is a useful tool, and serving helps them build social confidence as well as math and listening skills. They also have the best pizzas in town. The three of us ate two of them, and brought back half of the “Pizza Much Too Hot” (it was much too hot).
Another relaxing day passed while rain pelted the buildings. We sought refuge in a nonprofit cafÈ, Rogpa, and had some tea and chocolate goodies. I ended up getting into a conversation with the woman who was working there as a volunteer about yoga. My next task at hand in this town is to land a good yoga class that I can go to daily, and (as a yoga teacher) she had some good tips of the yoga.
And then Maulin, Tara and I ate a pretty good Tibetan dinner at Yak Restaurant while discussing politics, as any good policy students should before bed.