Paradise in Angst

Ladakh has been in mourning. Two day ago, all of the Tibetan shops and restaurants were closed in protest of the opening day of Olympics in China. The Chinese persecution of the Tibetans is atrocious and monstrous. Hundreds of thousands of Buddhists have been killed, tortured or displaced...why? What threat do they pose to China? Why? Tibetans are very peaceful people. I have not met a threatening Tibetan since I arrived in Nepal and then India for over two months now. Why? This, I do not understand. As if the universe agreed with the plight of the Tibetans, it rained all day in Leh.

The following day, all shops in Leh were closed in support of the protests currently happening in Jammu - a place relatively far southwest of Leh, but in the same state of Jammu Kashmir. Again, it rained. Hindu Jammu believes that there is a sacred Shiva lingam site made out of an iceberg in Jammu. Muslim Kashmir is blocking any tourist development around the site and Hindu Jammu is saying they have no right to do this. There has been a strike for almost 20 days in Jammu with a curfew imposed. Soldiers are allowed to shoot after 11 p.m. if they see someone on the street. All roads to/from Kashmir are blocked (except for tourists). The famous Kashmiri apples are rotting by the bushel as they await some sort of lift on the road block.

Yesterday, 2000 Ladakhi students returned from Jammu b/c they simply couldn't eat and school had been closed for a while. It is very dangerous and volatile there. There is no other place that the students can study - they must complete their curriculum in Jammu.

The Kashmiris want their own state - half Pakistan, half India. This has been a state of contention since partition in 1947. Now, it is spreading to Jammu b/c the Kashmiris don't want further development of Hindu places b/c it threatens them. I wonder at the quickness to violence by conflicting religions - if God and Allah and Shiva and the universe all believe in universal love and peace, why fight if you disagree? Here in Leh, it seems that the buddhists, hindus and muslims live in peace. Why is a place so steeped in history like the Pakistan Indian border or Israel Palestine so embroiled in conflict? What on earth is a solution? I have no idea. It makes me sad. I wish I could understand. But I don't.

Today is sunny. Sarah and I rented Pulsar motorbikes and met up with a friend of Christian's named Klaudia. She is an Austrian who has been riding her motorbike around the world for three years. She is gregarious, helpful, adventurous and very cool. Christian met her on the road with the Rakatanga motorcycle gang and we ran into her his second to the last night in Leh. She joined us for dinner (Sarah also) and Christian offered to help her the following day with a mechanical issue she was having. At the same time, Sarah and I expressed an interest in learning how to ride motorbikes and she readily assented to teach us. So, today we learned and I, according to Klaudia "am a natural." I love riding motorcycles, even against incredibly insane traffic. Somehow, it all makes sense if you just relax and flow into it...just like India.

She has participated in a ralley where bikers ride from Manali to an undisclosed location up north. She came in 5th place and is the only woman on the ralley. She returned to Leh to train for this year. As part of her training, she'll ride down to Manali and has invited me to join her if I like riding. We'll see. She'll go slow, but I'm not sure. Safety is always first for me, even with the flow of India.

I'll think about it as I go trekking through the Zanskar region on a 10-day camping trek with horses, a guide, a cook, a helper, two dutch ladies and two men who I haven't met. I leave the day after tomorrow. I dreamt I saw a wolf on a mountain in Zanskar - if that comes true, that will be special. I hope that there will be no more rain as I don't look forward to trekking and sleeping in wet conditions. If so, however, que sera sera. There will be no cars and only traditional Ladakhi village life for 10 days and seven passes. It is a difficult trek, but I'm up for it. I've gained a bit of weight here in Ladakh as it's so cold and I'm eating to stay warm. It seems I'm always hungry here. A trek up seven peaks should sort that right out. Thereafter, I'll go by bus through the Suru valley, Kargil and back down to Leh. My friend Praful may also have his bike and perhaps I'll ride with him. We'll see.

Now, for the week with Christian. Christian decided he didn't trust the bike enough to go all the way to Kargil and would rather do day trips from Leh due to the lack of repair facilities. This dissappointed me, but I had to defer to his judgment. And I readily agreed with him as the bike was nowhere near as strong, reliable and steady as his other one, even though he is an excellent driver and I readily trust him with my life. This is not something I do lightly.

I must first say that I was really looking forward to Christian returning to Leh because even though we had some lapses in connection, ours was a romantic and adventurous one based on a fierce independent streak, self confidence and mutual attraction for our free spirits. He wrote lovely e-mails stating that he wanted to share things important to me and him. I believe that is true. It still is as I sit here today. But, things aren't always what they seem. I believe we both have learned this the hard way. It wasn't the first time for me. Nor him, I am certain.

On our first day with the bike (his second day) we drove about 2 hours up to Alchi monastery. It was great to be on the back of the bike again and he's a superb rider so I had no fear. There was rain in the surrounding Himalayas that Christian kept pointing out. We spilled into Alchi, surrounded by gompas, and proceeded to the monastery. The monastery was closed and we toured the grounds. Just below was the Indus River. I suggested we go down to dip our feet in the oldest river in Indian civilization and Christian declined. That made me a little sad.

I went down without him and sang several hindi tunes as I waded in the ice cold river. This was history in the making and I felt honored to be there. The river gorge was wild and beautiful. I threw stones into the river and meditated on a rock for only a short time b/c I knew Christian was waiting.

When I arrived to the monastery, it had opened back up. I wondered whether Christian had seen this on his way out of the grounds, but didn't want to go look for him for fear he wouldn't care and would want to leave b/c of the apparent thunder. Because this was the reason we came, I entered the monastery and was in awe of the most incredible and intricate paintings on monastery walls I had seen to date. There were multi storied buddhas with scenes of elegant Kashmiri princesses in bright saris and gold on jeweled horses approaching the buddha. The paint was intricate and flecked with gold everywhere. There were kashmiri soldiers in a proud assembly charging through battle - again in elegant bright colors - looking straight out of 1001 Arabian nights (yes, I know the Kashmiris are Muslims - but that's how exotic it was to see these people in a buddhist temple - totally unique and absolutely splendid!). There were three buddhas in the first temple and the walls and ceilings and buddhas were all so elegantly adorned. It was truly awe inspiring and I hoped Christian had seen it.

I put my shoes on and started to leave when the monk told me the other temple was open. I again considered whether I should get Christian and the same logic prevailed that this was why we came to see it. As the thunder pealed, I thought it actually might be kindof fun and romantic to ride in the rain. It was a relatively short drive, or we could've waited out the rain eating lunch in Alchi. I was of course hungry.

The next monastery was just as extraordinary in a more traditional buddhist way. There were the usual demonic deities decking the walls, but also huge buddhas surrounded by circles on every wall that were peace-invoking and inspiring. There were elaborately carved wooden structures and a sand mandala made by monks in twenty different colors. I know that the monks frequently make these mandalas only to blow them apart as a symbol of the impermanence of things in life. Looking at the spectacular detail and beauty of this mandala made me consider that even the most beautiful object that we hold to our hearts is an illusion. All of this (with the exception of the sand mandala) dates back hundreds and hundreds of centuries. It was truly a gift to walk through these monasteries and to behold such splendor.

I was musing on this when I came to the restaurant where a pacing Christian came to the gate and said "Kyra, let's get the fuck out of here!" I need not convey my utter disappointment here. You get it. He then said that the apricot juice was homemade and delicious and I could try it quickly. I conceded, but only b/c I had to use the toilet and thought he might be impatient and at least juice ordering would distract him for a minute. Indeed, the juice was delicious and I appreciated his suggestion. He asked if I was hungry and said we could eat real fast. I was so dissapointed that I said I wasn't hungry. In truth, my romantic notions of us either dining to wait out the rain in a mild pace or driving through the rain getting wet were eviscerated and I was utterly disappointed. We rushed to the bike and Christian pointed out for the next hour all of the rain surrounding the Himalayas. I kept saying it didn't matter if we got wet - but he kept pointing out the rain - so I kept quiet and started to agree "yes, it's raining over there." It never caught up to us. The lustre of Christian had dissolved with the grey mountains around us.

We went to a monastery called Likur where there was a giant gold buddha outside on a hill. We could see it for miles as we approached the idyllic little town set back in a long river gorge. We snaked up the hill to Likur, which was aptly called Naga, i.e. Snake, monastery in the past b/c it was believed that the serpent king lived here. It was breathtaking and I stayed silent and distant from Christian as I explored the area. He suggested we go to the museum and I said I'd walk down the hill and have lunch while he looked. Well, the museum was closed and the restaurant was just a shop so we left that place and carried back to Leh.

To try and bring some light back to our situation, I asked Chrisitan about his friend that lived in Morocco. He said Sven was about to have a fourth child - a fourth daughter. "Poor Sven, he's only shooting girls," he said and I wanted to jump off the motorbike with the rage and disgust I felt for him. I had told him only the night before that I met my dad's best friend at my sister's wedding and when I was introduced as the youngest, he said "Oh, you must be aw shit. when your dad heard he had a fourth daughter, the first words out of his mouth were 'aw shit.'" I told Christian how I believed all of my life that my dad didn't love me b/c he considered girls worthless and it wasn't until I called him when I was 30 that we patched things up and started a father daughter relationship. The fact that Christian said this about Sven was ignoble, callous, hurtful and I was so angry that I started crying (silently). "What the hell am I doing with this man," I thought? After a couple of minutes, I asked if he remembered our conversation at all. "I was talking about Sven" he said. I said nothing more. I wondered on the bike why this hurt me so deeply as it wasn't about Christian - there was something deeper. At the same time, he was either a bad listener and totally clueless or a total jerk, I thought. I wanted nothing to do with him when we returned to Leh. I'd had enough.

When we passed a beautiful town called Basgo that I had previously suggested we stop in to on the way home, he asked if I wanted lunch. "No," I sulked. We drove on. That night, I said I'd go online. He did, too. After, I said I'd meet some friends for drinks. He came. He wanted to leave and I said I'd stay. During our drinks, he explained that he never ever meant to hurt my feelings and didn't make any connection between Sven and I. He apologized if he hurt my feelings. He meant it and I was grateful that he wasn't a monster. At the same time, I needed space. Why was I so upset? I couldn't understand my own emotions here.

The following day, I spent some time alone and met up with him in the afternoon. We got along well and just enjoyed strolling around Leh. We kept the conversation light. That night, we went up to the Shanti Stupa and while he took pictures (per usual), I played with some darling Tibetan girls on the stairs. We then moved down and I started teaching them some yoga. More Tibetan kids came to follow. We ended up having wheelbarrow races and they gave song and dance performances in English. It was super, super sweet. Christian took many photos and I laughed a lot. Two of the kids, Tenzin boy and Tenzin girl (cousins) asked if I'd come to their school. The tibetan mother gave me the name of their school and their phone number to call in advance. I looked at Christian and he agreed that we would visit before we left.

Indeed, we visited the school and the first question asked by a child was to Christian: "what is your life's aim?" "That's a difficult question," said a flabbergasted Christian. "I guess to do good for other people and to be happy and content." "What's yours?" "To be an engineer," smiled the child. A question of interpretation, I guess. But, I liked Christian's answer. That's my "life's aim," too. The kids asked me if I had a baby, how big my family was, if I liked Christmas and to sing a Christmas song, my birthday and asked Christian several similar questions. We reciprocated the questions and they answered in perfect English. This was a level 5 gifted class, so all the kids were about 10 years old and very intelligent. The sang us two songs - one about god and "the Milky Way" and recited a strange poem about a plump boy named Augustus that stopped eating his soup and died four days later due to starvation. They were bright eyed and charming and sweet. It was so fun! Then, Tenzin asked me to teach yoga. So, I showed them tree and a little head trick my girlfriend Jody Bryson taught me in San Francisco. They were titillated. When we left, the headmaster suggested I return to teach English for three periods and perhaps teach some yoga, too. I readily agreed. I will visit after my trek.

One day, we went to Spituk monastery just outside of Leh and spent six hours in the village. The head lama (the same one I'd seen in the Nubra Valley) was present to celebrate the "dawn of buddha." There were dozens of monks from around Ladakh in attendance. The people were gathered in the courtyard with low-lying tibetan painted tables and lovely tibetan rugs. They were dressed in traditional Ladakhi attire - their very best - and extremely excited to be hosting the head lama. They offered a giant buffet lunch. While Christian went back to the hotel to get his camera, I chatted with two teenage girls about their life in Ladakh. They were appreciative of their culture and concerned that consumerism would upset the balance of life they had with the onslaught of tourism. They walked me around the village and showed me the meanings of Hindu deities painted on the walls - basically reminders to overcome ignorance, lust and greed in very scary ways. We waited for every single elder villager to go through the buffet line before we went - a gesture of respect for the elders. I inquired about a group of young boys in the line and was told they were "very, very naughty boys."

By the time it was our turn to get food, Christian had returned, but he was so excited to take everyone's pictures that he didn't eat. This went on for hours. I sat and observed and interacted with the people while Christian snapped photographs. In six hours, we exchanged maybe 10 words. At times, people just wanted to eat or relax - they were so happy chatting and waiting together - and I felt he didn't even notice b/c he was so eager for a picture. This bothered me, but I let it go. To each his/her own, right?

Later in the evening, after listening to the monks chant as they ate their food in a different temple with the head lama, the head lama came into the courtyard with the waiting Ladakhis. There was much pomp and fanfare. A giant fire of cowdung was lit and the lama was decked in colorful attire with three different layers of crown upon his head. He ceremoniously threw the crops of the land into the fire with much chanting and bugle blowing and drum beating from monks in various states of attire. There were many strange hats and crowns and monks of all ages and states of interest. They were all calm and peaceful as the fire burned the offerings and the monk blessed the village and its crops. My sister Stacy's birthday was this day, so I offered her a birthday prayer into the fire, too. I'm sure the Tibetans wouldn't object. Both Christian and I felt fortunate to have attended the village ceremony. Christian discovered that this happens very rarely. There was a painting by the villagers that was blessed and their are only 31 in Ladakh. We were very, very fortunate to have stumbled upon this event. We returned to Leh happy and content. Yet, barely spoke about it to eachother. We had a warm understanding.

I wondered at the fact that we experienced this incredible day, yet barely spoke. Here was a gorgeous Frenchman who was very generous to me. He paid for everything all week long. He didn't offer many compliments to me aside from "your lips are like spanish muscles" which I THINK is a compliment, right? But, his actions were very loving when we did actually connect with eachother. He's a deeply passionate man and he loves life and is open to what cultures and places offer, if not the individual on an emotionally intimate level. I too love the adventure and appreciate a distance to avoid my hurt feelings. He is an immensely talented photographer and a caring man. One night, a french lady passed out at the table next to us. Her friends were baffled as to what to do. He asked why I wasn't eating and I said I couldn't b/c I was worried about her. He proceeded to take care of the lady in the most nurturing way until she was alight again. The same with Sarah discussing relationship issues. He asked several questions and gave the most common sense, direct answers in a way that wouldn't hurt her feelings, but set her expectations straight and put it all in perspective. I appreciate his compassion, his caring, his nurturing nature, his self confidence and assurance and the fact that he knows exactly who he is. No one will take advantage of him. He's brilliant and resourceful and self-sufficient. He's very masculine and incredibly tolerant of Americans for a frenchman. He also smells delicious and is a wonderful, wonderful kisser with large lips. He's one of the most generous men I've met on many levels and at the same time, one of the most closed off. I am confused.

I honestly believe that every person comes into your life as a reflection of something you need to see in yourself or deal with. I found Christian's closed manner at times to be truly heart-breaking and all I wanted to do was leave his side. At other times, he was so charming and fun and adventurous and sweet and romantic that I wanted to stay by his side and fill him with love b/c he didn't seem to have received much from the outside world. B/c I understand this side of him, I want to end his pain. I saw a lot of myself in his stubborness and unwillingness to truly express his feelings. This was part of the reason I came on this trip - to open up, to soften up, to be loveable again. Because, before I left, I truly felt unlovable. There is an element to Christian that mandates he is unlovable and the only person making that a reality is him. He sees it, but I don't know if he wants to address it. If I could, I would force him to do it, but instead all I can do is either embrace him in his entirety or let him go. At the same time, all of this is for naught as it is only a travel romance....right?

Christian and I had some really deep conversations about our background and our feelings and our past and I garnered a deeper understanding for him. In essence, he's right brained - utilitarian and functional and I am left brained - sensory and imaginative. He told me that the way I feel so strongly about places as beautiful could be seen as "freaky." I told him I didn't care and that's how I experienced life. I told him I felt sorry for him that he didn't feel that way. When we met with Sarah for dinner, she pointed out that women have a neurological bridge that connects things emotionally that men don't have as much as. Christian responded that he felt sorry for women b/c they experienced so much turmoil all the time. He didn't understand why. Even though Sarah had just explained why. I remained silent. That night, the stars were out and as we left the restaurant I exclaimed at how lovely they were and asked him to stop. "I'm tired, I'm cold, Kyra!" he agonized and he refused to stop or even to look up while walking. As this was our last night, I felt it was his way of closing up entirely. When we got back to the hotel, he conceded that he'd look from the garden, so we did, but there were too many lights. Rather than suggest we go to the front of the hotel to look up, I kept silent. I was truly disappointed again.

Our last day, he told me that I can not work for him b/c I'm not trained to deal with photos and its a very personal choice. I agreed. We discussed perhaps going to Morocco for three weeks together to visit Sven's new hotel and then take a four wheel drive south for two more weeks. He offered to fly me to Egypt if I flew to Morocco. This is a very generous offer. However, I wondered whether he'd admire the stars there and how often I'd remain silent due to dissapointment. At the same time, I feel that I understand him and may be able to open him up. This is what my mother thought about my father. However, a 41 year old man doesn't change. I either take him as he is and enjoy our mutual sense of adventure and lower my expectations or don't go. There is no in-between.

The day that Christian left, I went to a two hour yoga class that was more meditation than asanas. I realized how agitated I was physcially and mentally. I had only done one day of yoga the entire week that Christian was here. As I slipped into a calm, I thought about how far off my path I had gotten in order to accomodate this man. I questioned why I was here. To celebrate me, to soften, to love, to grow. During my week with him, I often felt compromised and disappointed and I couldn't get him to open up even though I tried and tried. This was selfish in a way b/c it didn't recognize his boundaries and I tried to force my experience on him. But it shouldn't be so hard, right?

This man has helped me to see the pain and isolation that we subject ourselves to by choice. I don't want that. I don't want a partner that opens to me, that celebrates with me. I want to be appreciated for my sensory side, not critizied. And I'd also like to celebrate him, rather than sensor him. At one point, he proclaimed that if we only had a month, we'd understand eachother much better. I think he's right. At the same time, need to hold true to what I'm looking for b/c this is my life and it's the only one I have right now. What do I want? I'd like a partner that laughs at the rain and doesn't live striving constantly for perfection in everything only to have the joy of bruises and life's offerings pass me by. There is much, much, much beauty and sweetness in him - and it came out at times - but it was mostly closed. Perhaps if I didn't need so much emotional connection and understanding, I wouldn't have constantly forced him to refuse to answer my questions. If he ever chooses to meet me halfway, I'd love to join him. I don't think I can be with a partner that doesn't meet me halfway and I'm not going to change. But in the meantime, I recognize that I deeply appreciate yet another interaction with another man of the world, and continue on my journey alone and hopefully very, very lovingly to myself and those around me. I wait for a response from Christian to see whether I'll join him in Morocco. Is there more to this than a quick romance? I doubt it. But, does that mean I'm just as closed as he is by dismissing him so quickly as soon as he is physically gone? Can I accept him and just have fun without reading so much into everything?

Will the love of my life ever meet up with me??? We will see...