We just got back from dinner at a restaurant in Connaught Place... wandering through the heat, the urine-soaked air, the beggars, and, yes, the cows, i had a strange feeling... somehow, coming back from three weeks in the Himalayas, I recognized the insanity of Delhi, and in a strange way, welcomed it. It's not home, far from it... but, on the way to dinner, I found myself feeling strangely at ease navigating the streets and haggling with rickshaw drivers; it seems that, slowly, India is becoming less overwhelming. That being said, we did go to dinner at TGI Friday's... there's nothing like a cold drink and some cheesy nachos to make you feel home again. (I stole the paper place setting... it had a photograph of NYC on it). The dinner was amazing; for a few hours, i felt like I was temporarily transported home... and, when i stepped back outside into the Delhi heat, it wasn't so bad... not so bad, after all.
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There's so much to say about my experience in the Himalayas that it's difficult to know where to begin. So, i've decided to organize my blog entries about the trip into several topics, the first of which i'm calling "Itinerary"...
The premise of the trip was that we would spend approximately three weeks backpacking between remote villages, stopping in each for a day or two to set up medical clinics and treat patients. This particular region of the Himalayas, Zanskar, is mostly populated with Tibetan Buddhist refugees, most of whom fled after China took over Tibet. It's a magnificent region, and due to its remoteness, the villages have retained much of the traditions that the Tibetans have practiced for thousands of years. The people are mainly poor farmers, and due to the harsh geography, 'real' medical care is only available miles away in Leh and Manali, the two relatively major cities flanking the region. Traveling to such care is no small feat - it requires several days of travel by foot or, if they're lucky, on horseback, along narrow roads carved along the sides of steep mountains, and often in extremely hot or cold weather. There are also major social difficulties; how can a mother, no matter how sick, leave her 5 children and field work to go to Manali for a week? The traditional healers and lamas end up being a major source of healthcare, and although many villagers expressed their dissatisfaction with their services, few had any other choice. Clearly, better care is needed... So, HHE created this trek... and so we went...
After flying into Leh, the capital of Ladakh, and spending two days relaxing and acclimatizing, we set off on a two day bus journey, stopping in two villages - Padum and Reru - along the way. At the second village, I got my first taste of medicine in the 3rd world. We set up a clinic at a school, screening all of the children for dental and medical problems, providing antibiotics, vitamins, and de-worming everyone on site (we gave out mebendazole like candy). I was assigned to triage, and by the end of the afternoon, i must have seen about 300 children. Although there were some interesting medical cases, the most important lesson of the day was a new, deep appreciation for my own ignorance. I was astounded by the exam schedule posted on the wall; these kids, in addition to learning Ladakhi, the local language, study Hindi, Urdu, and English! These are three very different languages, with different alphabets and origins... and then there are exams in History, "popular culture", and mathematics! Here we are, in a tiny village in the Himalayas, and 8 year old children are learning about the Roman empire. In Ladakhi!
Another interesting observation, driving along the 'road' between villages... at one point, i saw, in amazement, a wall dividing two orchards growing fruit and thought of that Robert Frost poem, "Mending Wall". Frost writes, "There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him..." I shook my head and thought, how sad, even here, they build walls, divide themselves... and then, minutes later, driving right past this wall, realized my foolishness... it wasn't a wall after all, but an irrigation system... a canal with water running through it to irrigate both orchards, not divide them. It was not the Ladakhis who had thought to divide themselves, but I who had assumed that they were like us... for the rest of the trip, I suspended such judgements and realized that, in very important ways, they were nothing like us at all. Thank goodness, for them.
After the two days' drive, we started off on our trek. We hiked an average of 1-2 days between villages, stopping in each for one to two days of clinic. The names of the villages, for the curious, are: Ichar, Cha, Purne, Testa, Kargiakh, Lakhong, Zanskar-Sundo, and Chika. I will go into details about the medical and social aspects of the trip in subsequent posts; here, I would like to talk about the trip itself. The logistics are, still, mind-boggling; there were 32 medical and dental students, dentists, and physicians; 10 kitchen workers and animal handlers, about 30 horses and donkeys, and 1 dog (Tazo, also affectionately known as 'poo dog' for his insatiable appetite for, well, poo). Each day, we would pack up our gear, have everything strapped to the animals, and then hike along narrow trails carved along the sides of the imposing mountains... I'm amazing no one tripped and fell, but how the horses manage to avoid toppling to their doom is another feat entirely...
As I know that my mother and grandmother are reading this, I'll mention the food... it was incredible. On what was essentially a bunch of pots cooked over an apparatus closely resembling a Bunsen burner, the cooks created, amongst various Indian dishes, cake (yes, cake - chocolate cake!), pizza, french fries, omelets, pancakes... let's just say that this wasn't a bare-bones mac and cheese kind of trip. Every morning, at 6am, we had a pot of hot Chai; every afternoon, a snack of chai and cookies, followed by hot soup before dinner. Several nights, we had hot water for bucket showers, and on the especially cold nights, hot water bottles to snuggle with in our sleeping bags. Outward Bound, this was not!
Needless to say, without this, er, logistical support, the trip would have been near impossible. The amazing care we got left us free to acclimatize, see patients, and really enjoy the experience, instead of having to worry about cooking and setting up camp ourselves. I'll reiterate again just how great HHE is, how organized and dedicated; I can't imagine having had a similar experience without them.
One more note before I retire to bad movies and air conditioning... one night, about midway through the trip, we hiked up a mountain to the Phugtal Gompa monastery, a famous masse of buildings encompassing a Buddhist school and supporting buildings. The monks served us chai and traditional bread with yak butter (never eat the yak butter... just say no, really). We came in order to set up a clinic there the following day, and were rewarded with the rare opportunity to spend a night at the monastery... fresh urine scents aside (i think 'urinal' is a national air freshener in India), what an experience! Giving us instructions about where to find our rooms, Andy, the physician trip leader remarked, "be careful walking around at night... down that hallway, if you turn right at the corner, you'll die. So, don't do that." (he was referring to the completely un-guarded cliff edge lining the side of the corridor!). In the morning, we sat in for the monks' morning prayers and were served more chai... I have amazing photographs of tiny little boys, 3 or 4 years old, running around in burgundy robes and orange hats... future spiritual leaders, but just kids, being kids.
After leaving the monastery, our group temporarily acquired a friend... a beautiful black dog nicknamed 'doggie lama' (he left the monastery to follow us after I fed and played with him... i know, i know, but i swear, he was the most spiritual dog i've ever hugged...).
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More to come in future posts, and soon, photographs.... until then, good night... thanks for reading, and please keep writing! I love hearing from all of you, and miss you all very much!
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