Hi everyone,
Firstly – apologies for the strange format of the last installment. I’ve no idea why it did that, bloody computers have a mind of their own, so here’s hoping this one behaves!
Thought I should get another installment in as tomorrow I set off on the first week of the March to Tibet, a 2,500 mile march from Dharamsala to Tibet via Delhi. The march, which is expected to take five and a half months, is the focal point of a campaign called the Tibetan People’s Uprising Movement, which aims to highlight the plight of the Tibetans and the human rights violations taking place in their country under Chinese occupation in the run up to the Beijing Olympics. It is expected to take 20 days to reach Delhi and I would like to march for seven days, as I need to be back here by the 19th at the latest as I’m now EDITOR IN CHIEF for local magazine Contact, and need to get that wrapped up by the 25th. Contact is only a 16 page freebie, and the title, created by my friend and predecessor, Ian Kent, makes it sound rather more hard hitting than it is – but I like it :-)
The only problem with the march seems to be that no-one, least of all the organisers, seems to have a clue what’s going on. It’s being organised by five Tibetan NGOs, all of which seem to have conflicting objectives ranging from gaining international recognition of their plight with a view to negotiations, to an all out cancellation of the games. Some also say they haven’t got their act together regarding food supplies and luggage transportation, and there are mutterings that the western support contingency may not even be able to march at the same time as the Tibetans. I have also heard that there have been two previous attempts to complete the march which has always fallen apart due to lack of organisation and infrastructure – but rumours abound and as for this attempt – let’s just see. It would be great if they could pull it off. We have been told we’ll be marching between 13 – 15 miles a day, and I must admit I have never had such a strong sense of wandering into the unknown, but at least I’ll have friends with me.
All’s still well here in McLeodganj. The weather is now absolutely gorgeous, just like summer and, with a combination of sheer bloody mindedness and some serious sticky tape, have temporarily got my camera working so I hope there will be some pictures before long. My time at Tibet Today is proving as fruitless as ever, waited over an hour and a half for my editor to turn up for an appointment today, before finally giving up, so whilst I’ll still submit articles to them, have decided to make Contact my main focus. It’s smaller and far less glossy than Tibet Today, but it’s monthly, well read, and the staff seem to have their act together. I’m also desperately trying to pitch a piece on the march to the nationals, but so far no joy. My stalwart papers, the good old Bucks Herald and North Devon Journal have both said they might run something, but so far none of the bigger players are responding. Shame, as the march doesn’t seem to be getting much media coverage, so if any of you know of any publications which might appreciate a cool, hard hitting feature on the March to Tibet…..
With many of my friends having recently moved on, things are a bit lonely here in McLeod, but hopefully it’s just a blip, and there will be a fresh arrival of cool fun-loving internationals waiting to greet me on my return.
Things have got much busier following the beginning of the Dalai Lama's annual spring teachings, which ran between February 22 - March 2, and on which I reported. I managed to blag a press pass for the second day, which entitled me to take a camera and line up for a glimpse of His Holy Lamaness. True to form, after having spent 10 minutes learning how to use my editor’s sophisticated piece of machinery which he agreed to lend me, I arrived at the office to find he had taken it on a job without telling me, and would not get it back in time for when I needed it, so I had to run round my mates at the last minute asking to borrow a camera. Fortunately I was lent one and squeezed past the other photographers (all of whom were 6ft plus with pieces of equipment more akin to space shuttles than cameras) to get a few pics. Due to rotten weather, and a less powerful camera than I really needed for the job (still a very nice one Trippy) they’re a bit dark and grainy, but it’s still the Dalai Lama!
Last weekend I decided on the spur of the moment to visit Shimla, as McLeodganj, beautiful as it is, has such a strong Tibetan and international flavour that it’s sometimes easy to forget you’re in India. As the Indian summer capital between 1864 – 1939, home of the British Raj, and now capital of Himachal Pradesh, I have always considered Shimla an important stop on my trip, but nothing quite prepared me for the Shimla experience. What a stunning place it is, stretching for eight miles along a ridge and bathed in glorious sunshine from all angles. After a nine hour bus journey I was deposited by the side of a main road, shortly before sunset, and as far as I can recall this was the first time I had ever arrived in a place alone and with no accommodation sorted. However it was impossible to feel apprehensive in this magical place which must now rank among my top five places ever visited. Also, bizarre as it sounds, in spite of the fact that this is my first trip to India, the town had a strangely familiar feel. Not spookily so, for example I didn’t recognise any specific buildings or landmarks, but I almost felt as though I had seen it in a dream. I don’t really buy into the theory of reincarnation, but rightly or wrongly I believe some of my ancestors were in India in the 19th Century and so it is extremely likely that they would have spent time in Shimla. Was it ancestral voices calling, some profound scientific phenomena yet to be discovered, or simply my imagination running away with me? Who knows? All I know is that I’ve never had such a feeling about a place before.
After a bit of a climb I found The Ridge, an open space bordered at one end by Christchurch, completed in 1857 by the British in an attempt to create a little piece of England in the wilderness. They got the shape right, but for me it didn’t quite work, perhaps due to the fact that it was painted primrose yellow and sported a neon green cross which lit up at night like something out of Father Ted. Mock Tudor English buildings, now housing such institutions as The State Bank of India and the Himachal Pradesh Library, also gave a hint of home, although aspects such as faded facades and corrugated iron roofs were enough to dispel the illusion.
Home to almost 150,000 people, the town which tumbles down the mountainside in a maze of teeming alleyways, is now a major Indian tourist destination and is especially popular with honeymooners. I was warned against the Kalka Railway which, completed in 1903, climbs the mountainside through 103 tunnels, as it is apparently crawling with smug married couples. Walking along The Ridge at sunset with my backpack, it was easy to see why this town, a mere glade until Scottish civil servant Charles Kennedy built his summer residence there in 1822, is so popular. At over 6000ft in elevation it is possible to gaze for miles across the Himalayan foothills which at sunset are shrouded in a bluey, pinky purple haze. However, as much as I just wanted to stop and take everything in, I reminded myself that this beautiful scene meant only one thing. The sun was setting and I had to find somewhere to sleep. After a bit of haggling I got myself a beautiful sunfilled room with a TV and bathroom for 300R a night – my exact budget.
That night I hooked up with a very nice doctor from Toronto and the next day she and I set off to The Viceroy’s Lodge. Completed in 1888, the lodge was built in the style of a Scottish baronial castle by the tenacious Brits who had each of its many thousand austere grey stones carried up the mountainside by mule. Now home to the Indian Institute of Advanced Studies, the lodge was the site of the 1945 Simla Conference, attended by Mahatma Gandhi, and the signing of the official partition of India and Pakistan, the effects of which are still felt today in the bitter dispute between the two nations over Kashmir. A brief tour of the few rooms visitors are allowed to enter included the room in which the controversial treaty was signed in 1947, sparking a conflict in which over one million people were killed and a further ten million displaced. Now a humble conference room, still decorated with paper imported from England when the house was built, it was quite awe inspiring to share the space in which the history of nations was forged. After a lap of the building in glorious 75F sunshine, we nosed into The Oberoi Cecil Hotel. One of Shimla’s finest; the Victorian hotel breathes Raj era opulence, with prices that wouldn’t be out of place in
Park Lane. My generous companion insisted with share tea, scones and the most sublime chocolate brownie I have ever tasted, claiming it was her contribution to Tibetan human rights! We sat drinking Earl Grey with our fingers in the air like queens of the Raj, before nosing into some of the glorious bedrooms under the pretence we were planning to hold a conference there – just for fun!
The following day I climbed to the Jakhu (monkey) Temple above Shimla, and was delighted to complete the steep climb in well under 30 mins meaning, according to the sign, that I’m ‘absolutely fit’ (well I could have told you that ;-) As I approached the actual temple however, I felt a sharp tug as my bag was snatched clean off my shoulder. A kind Indian man retrieved my belongings from my disgruntled assailant, who chirped indignantly, before disappearing up the nearest tree before you could say ‘cheeky monkey.’ Irresponsible feeding has made Shimla's simians extremely bold, and they’ll snatch anything from unsuspecting travelers, but you can’t help loving them even if they are naughty. The temple complex and walk is teeming with them, but then it is their temple! On my final morning I was eating breakfast on the terrace outside my hotel when I turned to see a large monkey running straight at me. I asked him sternly to leave, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was not having my breakfast, and he turned and fled. I was rather dismayed therefore when a member of the hotel staff came out clutching a bloody great rifle. I told him I was fine and that he mustn’t shoot the monkeys, but I’m not sure he understood, so I finished my breakfast under armed guard – willing the monkeys to stay away.
The only unfortunate outcome from my fabulous trip to Shimla was that my three night excursion seriously pissed off the coordinator of Volunteer Tibet through which I got my placement, who spent two days looking for me and now blanks me when he sees me in the street!
Anyway, think that’s all the news. Had better go and pack for the march, and then round off the week with one of my favourite occasions of all time, open mike night at Carpe Diem.
Speak soon XXX
