Kargil

That was kinda weird, but on the way when the bus stopped for chai break, I saw a Homeini picture in the chaishop. It was hanging there among pictures of Laxmi, the Hindu goddess of wealth and the Dhalai Lama, as they together would surely bring a very good luck for the business. And Kargil, after an hour, was a change from what I saw so far in Ladakh. A Muslim town, for sure. I wasn't sure if I should tell people that I am Israeli. Then I found out there are some Afgans, so I wasn't sure telling that I'm Russian was a good idea either. But it was ok, noone seemed to care, I'm just another gora :) And it's a nice place, too - people are different, but calm and friendly. Homeini is popular here all right, but just as a poster, it seems. People are more interested in local life than in anything else.

Leh, again...

I spent 2 days in Leh, before going to the Markha valley trek. It was great: I renew my clothing, bought some books, got an ayurvedic massage and felt like a human being again. I couldn't stay for long, I really have to move after couple of days in a touristic place. So I caught a bus to Stok, and made a 6-day way, climbing on 3 passes and getting down again, staying in villages or in tent camps before the passes.



















I really enjoyed the homestays, and I was amazed by the local women. It seemed like the villages are ran down by them: they take care of the animals and the children, the farms and the house, cooking food, cleaning, constantly working and always friendly and welcoming.



















The people are really beatiful down there. They got this inner smile :)



















I usually woke up at 6, drank chai and picked some chappatis with me. I ate them on the way, with great berry jam I took from Leh. I made the last 2 passes really early, waking up at 3:30, getting to the top to the sunrise. It was weird, because I could hardly sleep on these nights, but walking on these hours was almost effortless, and I enjoyed it. It was freezing on the passes, but the views compensated.














On the way down from Kanda La, the second pass, I've spotted many animals, hares and marmites and birds. Very nice.














Anyways, I was looking forward to get back to Leh, to check the news from the North. Not very exciting. I wish those bastards kept using the Baka valley for its peaceful purposes, like people do with valleys here. I pray that this shit will be over soon. Be happy :)

Leh

Seems like a war going on back home. One of the Israeli guys whom I'd met in Spiti, Gadi, who was travelling with a bike, had to go back. His brother was kidnapped in Lebanon. I thought about these people who must feel like great God warriors killing infidels. But they're doing it just for their sick ego, to get some future reward. If God is really on their side, how come they hide in bunkers and live in fear? God has plans for them too, no doubt. Their lives are wasted. So sorry for all people who suffered because of them.

Keylong

I felt that after leaving Kinnaur I will come to something completely different, and I was right. After getting a permit in Reckong Peo to go along the Inner Line, which is in fact the Tibetan border, I took off with a bus to Nako. And man, it all changed as we came down to the river. The green was all gone, there were just huge piles of rocks and then it was a great desert, which reminded me of Dead Sea and Arava. We arrived at Nako, and as I came out of the bus I just said 'Wow' because that is all I could say. It was a desert all right, but in incredible scales, with mountains stuck everywhere with no order as like God went wild with his imagination and just threw them over like some toys. Not only the landscape changed, the villages also. The houses were in Tibetan style - made of mud, painted in white, with flags and piles of straws on the roof.














There was also a small lake by the village. I felt really strange in Spiti, it was sad and happy, empty and full at the same time. The weather was weird also, cold wind blowing and the sun hitting hard, the air was dry. I stayed there 3 days, wandering around. Then I made my way to Tabo, which had an old monastery, 1000 years old, which was built during one night as the legend says. It had some locked rooms, which one of the monks has opened, and there were beatiful wall paintings of boddhisatvas, animals, deities, earth, heaven and hell and so on.



















The people in Spiti are Buddhist, they're modest and friendly, although their life isn't simple. One of the villagers told me that his religion was kindness, and I was really amazed by this. They put white rocks on slopes of the mountains, so one can see from far away the 'Om Mani Padme Hum' (May all beings be happy). From Tabo, I made a small trek to Dhankar monastery, empty of tourists and enjoyed a Tibetan village homestay. Then, to Kaza, the administrative center of Spiti, packed with tourists, hotels and restaurants. There was a festival when I arrived, the Dhalai Lama's birthday, so the monks and the villagers went on procession from the monastery to the village and then made a dance show.














I was really tired of the noise. There wasn't much to do in Kaza, I had a ride to the Ki monastery, and then walked to Kibber, a quiet village, where I spent 3 days.














There I met a Spanish guy, Florean, and we made a little trek together, through the remote villages of Gete, Tashidang, Langza and Komic and then back to Kaza. He was really into all the shamanic stuff, so travelling with him was like being in one of Castaneda's stories. He was a great guy and we had a good time together. The people in the villages were beatiful, kind and helpful, the food was delicious and gave us great energy for the walk. We came down to Kaza after 2 days, I rested for another day and then took the 4:30 am bus, which dropped me at Kunzum Pass, from where I walked 9 km to Chandra Tal, 'Moon Lake'. The weather was cold and foggy, rain started as I was walking. There were tents by the lake, I stayed for 2 nights, happily wrapped in 3 blankets.














Today morning I left, made my way down to Batal, cold wind blowing full power in my face. I was very lucky to catch the Manali bus that was about to leave, so I jumped for 3 hours on the back seat, and got off at Gramhoo, on the road to Leh. Then I hitchhiked and had a great ride in a truck driven by a Sikh guy, wearing a turban and uniform. The road became better, the truck was flying all the way to Keylong and I watched the green trees on the mountains. It was nice seeing them again. Leh is 2 days away, I'll do my best to enjoy this long ride.