Mustang

So I am back from Mustang. In fact, I’m back in Delhi. Here goes nothing…

(And this post is going to be full of parentheses. I’ll leave out the town names, and put up a map with our theoretical route when/if I can.)

Our group (sans Darby, who is now feeling better) just spent twenty days trekking in a remote area of Nepal in order to further explore Tibetan culture. Mustang, or, technically, the Kingdom of Mustang (formerly the Kingdom of Lo) lies on the other side of the Himalayas from Tibet. It was historically a Tibetan kingdom (with a king and everything—more on that later) that later got absorbed into modern Nepal.

The odd thing about Mustang (u as in “moo” and a as in “ball”—“Moo Stahng”) is still culturally Tibetan. It’s like a tiny pocket of untouched Tibetan culture that is outside of Tibet (and outside of the Tibetan community-in-exile) and, in many ways, outside of Nepal. The people of Mustang, especially upper Mustang (where we were fortunate enough to go) speak Tibetan, look Tibetan, live like Tibetans used to live, eat Tibetan food, and wear Tibetan clothing (especially the older people). Until the early 1990s, Mustang was a restricted area of Nepal. No foreigners were allowed in. Then the government opened the area to foreigners—with hefty permit fees (now US $750) and a limit on the number allowed in. The limit was set at about 1,000 people per year, and only this year has that limit been increased; actually, as far as I can tell, the limit has been unofficially yet effectively dropped. This has—for obvious reasons, I hope—had a huge impact on the lives of the people in Mustang. Modernity has been slow to come here.

Mustang is also famous for another reason. After the Chinese invaded Tibet, some Tibetans, mainly nomads from the eastern region of Kham (modern-day Sichuan province in China where the earthquake happened earlier this year)—therefore called “Khampas”—started guerilla warfare against the PLA (People’s Liberation Army). Many were actually trained by the CIA (yes, that’s us) in Hawai’i. They took refuge in Mustang and had several bases there. A small claim to fame for Mustang, but an important one. The Karmapa Lama also escaped through Mustang when he came to India in the not-too-distant-past.

I meant to try to keep some sort of journal to keep track of where we went and what we did, but I’m absolutely horrible about things like that and ended up writing nothing. This will be my attempt at an exhausted recollection five days after the trip and right before a 37 hour train ride to south India. (More on that later).

So we took a bus from the Kathmandu valley to a town called Pokhara. Pokhara is sort of the last-stop before many of the major trekking areas of Nepal. I guess I forgot to mention that Nepal is famous (and gets most of its money from) the trekking industry. The areas we went to in Mustang were part of the Annapurna circuit, also known as the Annapurna Conservation Area. Mt. Annapurna is huge. Right up there with Everest (which was not far from us).

From Pokhara we took a tiny plane (and by tiny, I mean tiny. See picture) to Jomsom (Jomosom by some spellings). We had to leave our hotel in Pokhara at 6 a.m. (woke up at 4:30) to get to the airport so the plane could leave ASAP. The planes leave that early because it gets too windy to fly later. Believe me, it was one of those “the earlier the better” situations. It was probably the most terrifying plane ride I’d ever had. We didn’t even have to really make a descent when we landed—the runway came up to us. When we go to Jomosom, we had tea and started walking.

I have to add that we didn’t make this trip alone. There were twenty-five students. There was one of our main teachers (the other one, who is pregnant, wisely chose to stay behind in Kathmandu (our teachers are married and have a daughter and live in Kathmandu when not doing this program—one is Spanish, the other American)), Tenzin the program assistant, Tinley the Nepal Tibetan language teacher (though we never actually had classes), Phuntsok the former program assistant, and Dilly the Nepali who just finished his masters in Norway and did his thesis on socio-economics in Mustang. There were Sherpas (guides, basically) and porters (who carried a ton of our shit) totaling to about thirty—people who led the way, cooked for us, set up tents, made tea, washed dishes, cared for the animals, everything. We also had about twenty mules to carry all of our gear and food and other stuff. We literally had a caravan—and without them, this trip wouldn’t have happened. The leader of the group, Anyima-la, is a Sherpa and had probably the coolest voice ever. Think Louis Armstrong with a touch of laryngitis. Awesome awesome awesome.

The food we had started out really good (and was probably really good the whole time), but it got old after a while. We had eggs in some form (usually hard-boiled) along with a form of bread (toast, pancake, sometimes porridge) every morning. We had so many god damned potatoes that we were all sick of them by the end. Lots of local meat, mainly goat.

Let’s just get it out there that it’s good that I like to take pictures of landscapes and eventually want to be some sort of nature photographer. The landscapes were infinitely beautiful—I’ve never seen mountains of this scale in my life. Where we were was more impressive (and deeper) than the Grand Canyon, if you can believe it. Annapurna and Dhaulagiri, two of the largest mountains in the Himalayas, rise to about 26,000 feet (Mt. Everest is about 29,000). Between them run the Kali Gandaki river. When the Indian sub-continent crashed into Asia millions of years ago and began pushing up towards the sky what we know today as the Himalayas, the Kali Gandaki started carving out its path that eventually led to the deepest gorge in the world.

This fact, combined with the fact that Mustang is essentially a desert, made the trip that much more interesting. Yes, there is a desert in the Himalayas. We saw no rain or snow in the twenty days we were there, and they get only (very roughly) about 780mm of snow a year and around 560mm of rain. (I saw these numbers somewhere, and they could be reversed, but you get the picture). That is not a lot of precipitation. Most of the vegetation, except for the random birch trees around water sources/creeks, was a variety of thorny bushes. And no desert is complete without sand and rocks, which is exactly the terrain that we walked on every single day. I saw two horny-type lizards, and there were buzzards (great for sky-burials, which we didn’t get to witness) and eagles. Also tons of sheep, but more on that later. Most people get their water from the Kali Gandaki or a tributary/creek coming in/out of it. The Kali Gandaki’s waters flow from Tibet.

We stopped in countless “bhattis” along the way. “Bhatti” is the Nepali word for the equivalent of a tea house. These villages cater to trekkers. Groups stop along the way, have tea (prepared by their Sherpas or by the bhatti owner for a fee), then move on. If they reach a village around nightfall, most stay for the night. Every village had a camping area, which was basically a rock walled-in area for tents. This is type of place we stayed every night. Many of the villages also had some small hotels with names like “Annapurna Hotel.” More on this later, as well.

The pinnacle of our trip was the city (village) of Lo Manthang. The ancient “walled city” is sort of the capital of Mustang, and is where the king’s (yes, king) palace is. We spent about five days here. We got an audience with the Raja, the king of Mustang. He doesn’t really have any real power anymore—the new Maoist government of Nepal “kindly” said that he won’t have control over anything, and is more of a symbol. However, the people he represents still respect and honor him. Local disputes are usually taken care of by the people in the village. If they can’t resolve it themselves, it eventually ends up at the hands of the king BEFORE it goes to the local police or the government of Nepal. The people of Mustang are essentially left alone to do what they want as long as they don’t cause any trouble. They pay no taxes and get basically no help from the government. The king of the Kingdom of Mustang (formerly Lo, again) is probably in his seventies and just sat and clicked mala beads the whole time. The audience was basically a Q & A session, and he gave very “kingly” answers such as “yes” and “no.” Nonetheless, it was an interesting experience.

I’m writing my second paper on electricity in Lo Manthang. It was quite a project to get electricity in these rural areas. Most people in every village use solar panels for their electricity, the usage of which is usually limited to a few light bulbs and maybe a TV/VCR if the person is exceptionally wealthy. The solar panels charge what are basically extra-fancy car batteries. In Lo Manthang and in a few other villages, however, there is also a very small hydropower plant. The one in Lo Manthang produces about 30KW of power. But in the winter, the river freezes over and the plant produces no power (luckily, most people leave so there isn’t a need for it). The two people I interviewed for my paper (which I’ll post later when it’s done) said that electricity has become more of a necessity than a luxury now. People pay about 1 rupee per watt, so it’s a pretty fair system—you get what you pay for. There are no meters, but people come and count how many light bulbs, etc., that you have in your house. The ACAP (Annapurna Conservation Area Project) office, a branch of which was in Lo Manthang and had internet—15 Nepali rupees per minute—is helping to electrify the area. They subsidize the solar panels and so the people only have to pay for their transportation from Pokhara.

Lo Manthang is about three hours by horse from the Tibet (China)/Nepal border. Many of the goods in the town are imported from China (now that the border has been opened a tiny bit since the Olympics). I heard from one local that Chinese soldiers come to Lo Manthang about once a month…

I forgot to mention a small detail. A couple of days before we reached Lo Manthang, I had a great experience with a little friend named giardia. Yep, I got giardia while in rural Nepal. It might have been from something I ate in Kathmandu, but there’s no way to know. I got to take Flagyl, a medicine that had a nice warning on the back that basically said “don’t take this unless you really have to, because the rats and mice we gave it to all got cancer.” Anyway, the sulfur/rotten egg burps and random bathroom runs were symptoms enough for them to give it to me. Many people ended up getting it in some form or other by the end of the trip, but I think it was agreed that I definitely had it the worst. Sweet? I got to ride a horse for a couple of days, though. I can now quietly literally and honestly say that “I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name.” I’m better now, though apparently I look much thinner and probably lost ten or fifteen pounds mainly because I had absolutely no appetite after I got sick(due to the medicine probably and the food possibly) when we were hiking for about 6-7 hours every day with one 11 hour day thrown in.

Also, there were huge Tibetan mastiffs in most villages used as guard dogs. Actually, most of them were very nice. One of them followed behind us for about a mile after a day trip to some other caves that were hand-carved into the side of the canyon in which people used to live.

During the trek we had three lectures on Tantra (a.k.a. Vajrayana), the third prominent category of Tibetan Buddhism. It’s pretty crazy and really interesting; I won’t go into it here, because most of you readers don’t know anything/enough about Buddhism for it to make any sense to you (no offense).

Mustang predominately (and almost exclusively) follows the Sakya sect of Buddhism. We visited many monasteries and temples, and there were stupas and chhortens all around. The three colors of the three main deities of Tibet—red for Manjushri, the deity of wisdom; white for Chenrezig (Avalokitesvara), the deity of compassion whom the Dalai Lama is said to be an incarnation of; and grey for Prajnapani (spelling?), the deity of power—were on every chhorten, building, everything. Painted on homes, doors, walls, you name it.

We got to visit the three monasteries/temples in Lo Manthang. Thubchen and Jampa temples had been monasteries, but there were no longer monks there. They were built in the 15^th century and 1387 CE, respectively. We weren’t allowed to take pictures inside of any of them, but you’ll have to believe me when I say that these places were old. Old. Statues and wall paintings that were hundreds of years old. It was quite a sight. The only monastery with a monastic community was Chhyode Gompa (gompa=monastery in Tibetan), with about 85 monks. Most of them go to Kathmandu in the winter as well. They are only able to be there through foreign donations (about $400 a year per monk, or whatever you want to donate).

We visited many other monasteries throughout the trip. One Sakya monastery had mandalas painted all over the walls. There was an area in another that the girls weren’t allowed to go. It was a temple for some sort of protector deities. There were guns, swords, a shield and chain mail from probably before the renaissance. There was also a dried up, real hand hanging on the wall. I can’t explain how cool it was. It had a ring on it, and the wrist bones were still sticking out. It was crazy, and really awesome. Also, more crumbling metal deity statues from who knows when. God I wish I could have taken pictures.

The Mustang area still has remnants of the former religion of Tibet, Bön, many practices of which got absorbed into and adapted by Buddhism when it became popular. For example, on the last day we were in Lo Manthang, we saw a special puja (in real short, a spiritual offering/worship ceremony) for the people who were leaving the town for the winter. It was called the Mahakala Puja, and the monks do it once a year. It’s the last ceremony/festival of the year, the day after which most people leave. [It gets too cold in Mustang for everyone to stay, and there usually isn’t enough food for them to stay anyway. So basically, the older people stay and take care of the little kids who also stay in Lo Manthang (the same applies for most of Mustang) while the middle aged people go to Pokhara or Kathmandu or sometimes India to sell sweaters. The people who stay behind survive on dried meat (usually yak, maybe goat) and grains for the winter. The old people sleep late during this time. Hah.] This ceremony has almost nothing to do with Buddhism—it’s an obvious example of how Bön and local practices got absorbed when Buddhism came about. It happens right after the last harvest and right before people leave; Buddhist ceremonies don’t really work like this. In short, they chased three demons out of the village and destroyed three sacrificial cakes (instead of animals—an example of Buddhism adopting and changing a local practice).

One thing that I’ve yet to mention is probably one of the most amazing: the stars. A few years ago in high school when I was going to go to Nepal on the trek through the Asian Studies teacher Dr. Neralich, he told us that the stars in this area (we were going to the Dolpo, which I learned is the restricted area neighboring Mustang) were the most impressive and beautiful that we had or will ever see. I truly believe him now. He said that they were bright enough to read by, and he was absolutely right. I have never, ever seen so many stars in my life. You could even unmistakably see the Milky Way in a strip going across the sky. It’s the one time that I could say that my headlamp (which I lost after the first day) was hurting my night vision because the stars were so bright. It’s also the one time on the trip I really wished I had brought a tripod to take pictures of them. If it hadn’t have been so cold, we would have stood and watched them for hours. It’s one of those things that I won’t ever be able to do justice to with words alone. You have to see it to understand. At that elevation, the stars actually flickered like satellites. Almost all of them. All of this occurred at above 3000 meters, peaking at about 3800m. This is about 13000 feet. Fayetteville is at something like 1400. We almost went through a 4700m (15400 ft) pass, but decided to go another way. Needless to say, the air was thin and the ground was high—close to space, close to the stars, away from any city lights or air pollution of any sort.

Another sight in Lo Manthang was a bit more…uneasy on the eyes. We got to see two yaks get slaughtered. Yep, yaks. Think “fucking huge cows with more hair and larger horns” to get a picture. Four families pooled their money to buy two yaks for meat, etc., probably for the older people for the winter. They did the dirty work right after breakfast. I walked over as they were killing them. One was already dead, but the other was still struggling. They killed them by suffocation—something in the nose, a rope tied around the muzzle and neck—so they didn’t waste any blood or anything. And they didn’t waste anything. Guts, blood, skin and all—it was all put to use. The butchering was actually much easier to watch than the killing, which I guess is understandable—they weren’t suffering by that point.

We also took an optional day trip from one of the villages on the way back to Lori Gompa, which is a monastery (no longer active) that is situated in CAVES. Yes, it’s a cave monastery. How cool is that. It also has the oldest painted frescoes in Nepal. I snuck a couple of pictures (actually, I was given mixed messages—some people said I could take pictures, some said I couldn’t).

The people in Mustang should be commended for how they live. They have harsh, difficult lives. They still practice subsistence farming, they don’t use electricity except for light bulbs (occasionally), they have to leave their homes in the winter. Water is in short supply. They know about modern things, but don’t have most of them. They have basically no variety in their diet. It was such an experience to see how they live, and to see historical Tibetan culture alive as well.

The above doesn’t do justice to the trip, and I don’t think my words will ever be able to. It was long and hard and miserable at times, but it was completely worth it. Let me know if you want more details about anything, and I’m sorry if it’s been scattered.

After a couple of terrifying flights back to Kathmandu, we got things together, took another shower, ate some awesome food and watched the election at a watch party at the American club at the embassy. I’m pretty sure every single person (including myself) that was there was rooting for Obama. There is only one kid in our group who was pro-McCain. It’s an election that I won’t forget—watching it the next morning local time in a foreign country at a US embassy was quite interesting. Many people started crying when Obama won—it was a very emotional place. Also, if you didn’t watch his acceptance speech, I suggest that you do. It was probably the best speech I’ve ever heard, especially coming from a politician. In the Kathmandu airport on the way to Delhi (where Darby and I are now), there were some British and people of other nationalities talking about how glad they were that he won. Basically, the rest of the world is happy that he did. India is ecstatic. We got a newspaper that essentially had an Obama front page and entire section. It had one of the most praising editorials I’ve ever read, and it was all about Obama. There hasn’t been a landslide like this since pretty much forever. I’m so glad it happened—now we can come home without worrying about it!

So Darby and I are in Delhi, and leave on a 37 hour train ride in a couple of hours. We’re going to south India to one of the largest monastic universities in the world to do our independent study projects for a month. More on that later.