Ladakh cont'd.

It’s obvious that Ladakh hasn’t been a tourist place for a long time. Even now, it’s not for someone who wants to lounge by the pool, go shopping, or enjoy the comforts provided by some of the more traditional tourist resorts in India. Our hotel (actually a set of cottages) was a good example. It was clean, with a bed, many blankets and a bathroom. It had a flat screen TV. But, hot water was only available from 6 to 9 in the mornings and 6 to 9 in the evenings. Not to mention there was no electricity during the day. It didn’t bother us too much because we were never home during that time.

The cottages were used by many travelers as places to stay in Leh in between excursions to nearby places. Therefore, on any given day while we were there, there were less than 5 guests. On the first day, the head waiter (Dev Kumar – DK) asked us what we would like for dinner, as it was just the two of us:

- Well, what do you have?

- We can make anything you’d like.

While the offer was generous, we realized that this was just the politeness that comes with hospitality training. In fact, there weren’t too many vegetables available in the area – potatoes, cauliflower, spinach, cabbage, etc. Kidney beans, rice and rotis were part of the stable diet of most people. Even with this, each day we got a different array of dishes. And each day we were amazed by how delicious even the simplest of dishes could taste. In the mornings we got omelets and toast, and of course chai. The food was nutritious, filling and pretty much incredible! But only because it was the kind of food we liked to eat, and we didn’t crave (or ask for) pizza or pasta.

DK told us that in order to serve food that isn’t grown in the area, it needs to be brought up from down below, making it expensive and not worth it, especially towards the end of the tourist season, which is when we went. A “restaurant” near Pangong Lake was a clear demonstration of this:

The sign outside said: Rice, Rajma, etc. The restaurant was a giant tent, split into the area where the customers sit and the “kitchen”. There were two waitresses, one of whom spoke no Hindi or English. After going inside we realized that they served three main dishes: Rice and Rajma, Roti and Potatoes, and Maggi. We first ordered one Roti/Potatoes and one Rice/Rajma. After finishing that we realized that we needed more food. Upon asking for more Roti/Potatoes, we were told that they were out. So we had more rice. A large group that came in after us got only Rice and Rajma. A couple who came in later was told there was only Maggi left. There were no apologizes. That was the only food available. Either eat it or go the next tent. Most people stayed. All I can say is: the rajma was awesome!

Other restaurants and the sites reflected the same type of services at the hotel. Every place had everything that you would need, but nothing that would be a luxury. I guess even these basic necessities were so much more than what most locals have so that even they are considered luxuries. I would recommend Ladakh as a place to get away from it all, but don’t go if you are also expecting to get it all.

Ladakh - The Landscape

As I looked through the plane window, I saw before me something I had never seen before. Every shade of brown, with bits of green and white, stretched out before me as far as the eye could see. It was as if someone had taken a piece of wrinkled cloth and spread it, without smoothening it out. I could almost imagine how centuries of earthquakes, volcanoes and plates shifting had formed this magnificent landscape.

Driving through the mountains and valleys, I stared at what I saw before me. It was beautiful. There wasn’t much there. In fact, there was nothing. Everywhere else we associate beauty with something natural or artificial or at least with living organisms (trees, birds, animals). But this was something rare. It was the beauty of nothing. Earth in its most raw form, shaped by the different forces of nature. Just rocks, dirt, gravel, sand. Nothing else. At one point, we got out of the car and looked all around us, mountains, everywhere. Not just mountains, but there was no horizon! Strangely enough, I didn’t feel small standing there, nor insignificant. It felt awesome, in the true sense of the word, the sense that isn’t used often nowadays. AWESOME. And soon, I was going to be a part of it. Soon, I was going to land on the highest civilian airport in the world, in Leh, Ladakh.

In certain areas of the mountains, we saw evidence of another element: Water. This evidence was most apparent climbing down a mountain. At the top there would be snow. And then as we entered small crevices in between two peaks, we would see a network of veins, spread across the skin of the mountains. Even the smallest of these would have bits of green lining it, moss or grass, the first signs of life. The major arteries of the area would have proper meadows, with goats grazing and yaks lounging in the sun.

Aside: An anomaly to my evolutionary view of climbing down a mountain is these gorgeous purple flowers. On the side of the mountain, surrounded by rocks, there are these bushes, each with bright purple flowers. My first question when I saw these: Where did you come from? Upon further inspection, there would be a SMALL water source nearby. True to my biologist roots, I marveled at the adaptations made by this plant:

Coming further down the mountain, near the Shyok river (in Nubra Valley or Valley of Flowers), we found fruit trees. Trees loaded with apricots and apples, easy to pick and eat. This was when we camped in a tent for a night. Living in the campsite, which had dining hall and a building for shower/bathrooms, I didn’t get a sense of encroaching on nature. It felt as if we were being allowed to live there by nature. In a sense, it was true. This was one of the few places nearby where human beings (particularly tourists) would be able to live – for at least couple months out of the year.

In fact, I got the same feeling after going to villages in the area (and now we’ve

reached the bottom of the valleys). There was never a sense of man conquering nature. Not even of man and nature living in harmony. But it was nature allowing man to access its most remote parts and make them habitable. Houses were built into the side of the mountains, wherever the ground was stable enough. Food was grown wherever the ground

was flat, irrespective of size or shape. And the roads were the best part. The roads were carved into the mountains, going for long periods of time in one direction, only to curve towards the opposite direction, as we slowly inched up the peaks. Nature made its decision loud and clear: I don’t care if the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. We go by my rules here.

Next up: Ladakh – The People