Under the Spell of the Himalayas, Part I

While Sarah and I don’t usually think about having a travel bucket list, the magical sonority of those tantalizing words, Himalayas and Dharamshala, held a special place for us even before our move to India. Dharamshala: home of the Dalai Lama in McLeod Ganj; center of the Tibetan government in exile; an array of multi-cultural dishes with intriguing new, yet now comfortable, flavors for our subcontinent-oriented palates; the luscious greens of historic tea estates; lovely, spirited people ready to share a smile; Tibetan Buddhist temples and monasteries and nunneries; the spectacular Himalaya mountains themselves; and of course, delicious, mountain grown, organic peanut butter . . . Who knew? And even better, on our arrival, our guide informed us the Dalai Lama was in residence and that he would be giving a 90 minute teaching in a few days, would we like him to try to get tickets for us? We had to send passports, visas, and new headshot photos with him but hey, why not give it a try!

At any rate, months back when we had decided to tour the Kangra Valley in Himachal Pradesh, another iconic area in India, we asked Emma Horne Travel to give us suggestions and make all the arrangements since we’d been so delighted with their services for our Rajasthan Whirlwind back in January. This time, Emma and her team earned even higher praise, as she directed us to a tea plantation “homestay” that had recently opened. The Lodge at Wah won our hearts and truly made the late monsoon drizzly days special for us. About an hour’s winding drive east of Dharamshala itself, the lodge is unique in so many ways, with the welcoming family represented by Surya and Upasana, the younger generation hosting the lodge this time of the year, and their exceptional staff, making us feel like we had truly come home.

Surya’s father, Deepak, had come up with the idea to build a home at the Wah estate since it was one of their favorites of several tea operations they own, and they expanded that dream into the current lodge with its six unique, welcoming rooms and its gracious hospitality and enticing Himachali dishes—breakfast and dinner are included and lunch is available if desired. The family wanted to honor the Kangra Valley’s building traditions, materials, and craftsmen, so they researched the use of mud and dung construction incorporating the area’s plentiful slate for roofs and terraces. They even traveled to New Mexico to compare varieties of adobe mixtures, and the resulting ambience yields a historic charm and warmth while subtly offering the expected luxuries of a five star experience.

Surya gave us a tasting of their teas followed by a tour of the historic Wah Tea factory that still uses much of the older processing equipment that’s stronger and better lasting than that now being built—seeming to confirm that methods haven’t changed much over the years in the crafting of fine teas! BTW, the estate’s name, Wah, comes from an earlier owner, the Nawab of Wah, in Pakistan, and the word means “Wow.” We can certainly agree as we reveled in the ever shifting views of the freshly tinseled Lesser Himalayas just beyond the foothills. (They only reach about 18,000 feet elevation while the next range, the Greater Himalayas, includes Everest at over 28,000!)

But, of course, we had lots of exotically named places to explore, so, as much as we loved settling in with a good book at the lodge as Southwest Monsoon lingered in the valley, we set out with Muneesh, our driver, to wind our way up and down and around the narrow roads. First up, a quick tour through the faded bohemian village of Andreta, where a young Irish woman arrived on horseback in the 1920’s and decided to settle down. Nora Richards had tired of England and bought a parcel of land in Andreta for a single rupee, and was later gifted another 15 acres so she could establish her Woodland Estate. Soon she was joined by other artists and artisans including Sobha Singh, a renowned painter of Sikh Gurus, and Sardar Singh, a master of art pottery famous for developing a color and style known as Delhi Blue.

After lunch, Muneesh took us to the Tashi Jong Khampagar Tibetan Buddhist Monastery where we were surrounded by the greens of the hills and the grays of the dueling clouds and the muted saffron robes of the monks and novices—and of course their winning smiles. Tashi Jong means “auspicious valley” and is the name of the community established in the late 1950’s to grant a home to the many who fled Tibet. Everywhere we strolled, we encountered boys and men practicing the Buddha’s gracious smile as they worked, teased, walked, and debated. On our way back through the village that supports the monastery, I caught a glimpse of a family and was able to hop from the car and spend a few minutes grinning and nodding with beautiful great grandma through four generations on down to toddler. What an auspicious valley, indeed!

The next day, it looked like more rain, so we decided to visit the Dongyu Gatsal Ling Tibetan Buddhist nunnery not far from the monastery. When we arrived, the grounds and temple looked deserted and, just as we noticed the tiny sign reading “Come into the office first,” the clouds stepped up to full drench mode. Once we got inside, it turned out the community had gone to the Tashi Jong monastery for the day to share a picnic, so it seemed there was only a single nun minding the office desk to welcome us. Tenzin Dasel was originally from the U.S. and, after we exchanged mutual delight and the usual where-froms, she invited us to join her at a cozy seating arrangement with a couple couches and easy chairs. Two other waterlogged groups soon arrived, shaking off the rain as best they could—three women from Hungary and another pair from Germany and Australia—and we sat together and learned the history of the nunnery and its founder and abbess, Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo.

Jetsun was raised in proper British fashion in London but had decided to follow Tibetan Buddhism early on and moved to Himachal Pradesh at the age of 21. Soon after, she was ordained as a nun—one of the first western women to do so—she then found a teacher, and he later encouraged her to follow in the path of many Buddhist masters: to meditate for an exended period in a cave to seek enlightenment. Jetsun found a perfect Himalayan cave located at 13,200 feet elevation and was able to wall off a bit of an enclosure (six feet square) and start a garden for potatoes and turnips—the only things to grow at that altitude. She set up her meditation box—3 feet by 3 feet—where she meditated and even slept, sitting up. For twelve years. Yes, 12. Years. Then, as we chatted about her and the nunnery, Jetsun came out and joined us and we enjoyed a cup of tea, the silver music of the rains, and being in the presence of such an awakened person. She shared her gentle smile with us all and we recognized a special moment.

Once the rains hesitated, Tenzin Dasel offered to give us a tour of the recently completed temple where it had taken 27 Tibetan artists two years to do the intricate thangka designs on all the walls and ceilings. Understandably, they did not allow any photos inside, but it was breathtaking. The rains finally called it quits, but I decided my camera was best left to some quiet meditation in its own cave.

Such an unexpected, serendipitous delight, to meet and chat with one of the most famous Tibetan Buddhist nuns in the world . . . What could possibly top that? Would we indeed find mountain grown, organic peanut butter? Ah, but that’s another story . . . among many . . .