Shameless promotion

You should all read my friend Liz's blog: http://lizsimoninindia.blogspot.com/. You remember Liz:

Dear Liz, If you steal my camera and take ridiculous pictures with it, they go on the blog.

She's a little behind in the posting because she doesn't have a phone, but hopefully now that we have a little more access to internet it'll get better.

She is making me put up this one too because Liz is a sorority girl and would like to promote the owls of Kappa Kappa Gamma. I am now really well informed on KKG: their colors are blue and blue, they really like fleur de lis and owls and keys and have lots of "functions" and overall I'm really happy that Liz gets to be in a sorority and not me. Anyway, if you are her sister and you are reading this, rest assured that she is repping it really hard in India.

Homestay one, or, so many things happened i can't even remember them all

I cannot even describe the events of the past few days. Number one: I am sitting on my roof writing this, and Stephen is sitting on his roof skyping with his family, and I just waved at his dad. FROM MY ROOF TO Stephen's ROOF TO BROOKLYN. I am overly excited. (Stephen Bought the usb internet thing. Apparently it works on the roof.)

We left Sarah on Saturday. Sonam actually left on friday night, so I had the room to myself to pack. Conclusion: I overpacked and will probably send stuff home so I can buy myself a Tibetan/Indian wardrobe.

When we got up to McLeod, we dropped some stuff off at the guest house that will serve as the library up here. It is way up the hill. Then we came back down the hill (I will eventually draw a map) and stephen and I set off with our backpacks, buckets, and computer bags (I left my big bag at the library.)

Stephen and I got lost on the way to out houses so he had to call his pala (father). His pala found us, and they dropped me off at my home.

I have a pala, an amala (mother), and a 23 year old host brother named Dawa. Dawa means moon. I had met all of them on friday when we came up to have tea. Amala doesn't speak much english, but pala and Dawa do, so we had tea and pala began teaching me more Tibetan words. Tibetan seems a lot more fun now that there is a reason to speak it, because I want to be able to tell my amala where I'm going and when i'll be back.

Pala is very outgoing and loves to talk about Tibetan politics and Buddhism. He believes Tibet should be autonomous, but under chinese rule, since Tibetans are often more focused on spirituality than modernization.

Stephen came over because I had called, so I showed him around and he drank Cha, then we went over the his house, where his family was making capse. His house and mine are similar: kitchen, main room, and bedroom. He and I helped for a while, and I drank Cha (common theme).

I left to recharge my phone (put more rupees on it) and redo our international plans (so it shouldn't run out until march 26...the middle of spbreak 11....where I will hopefully be on a beach...win/fail...I am losing command of english).

Anyway, Stephen 's amala gave me directions to the road, but I failed and ended up in the middle of the woods. Thankfully, some monks let me climb down into a monastery, and then I could get to a road. I recharged my phone, and then met up with Nellie, Claudia, and craig at a teashop. We saw Craig's apartment, which is really big and very cold, and then we all walked to our respective homes.

I made craig walk me home because I didn't have a flashlight. I also didn't kn ow how to get home (typical. The two sure things in america: death and taxes. The two sure things in india: tea and Michelle gets lost). We walked back to the temple, and walked up the road to my house. Then you turn off the road and go through the concrete jungle to make it home (there is no way to describe this, especially in the dark. Details later). I hit a point where I didn't know where my house was, because I identify it as the pink one, and it was dark. Things that mark my way home: barbed wire, a pipe that sticks up at an odd angle, rock formations.

I decided to call my pala, but he didn't pick up the phone, so I called Stephen. After putting his brother on to try to talk me through it, they came to get me. My pala called back, but I said I would be home soon. Stephen and his brother found me and Craig two minutes from home, and then I left Craig to find his own way home. He went all the way back to the temple, up and around to his house, but we figured out today that he lives literally twenty yards in the other direction.

For dinner amala made thoukpa, or noodle soup. She made the noodles by hand and put in carrots and meat. The carrots in india are red, or sometimes white, and I had to explain that in america the carrots are orange. We had a really fun conversation at dinner, and my family is really fun and interested in things I'm interested in too. Topics include the differences and similarities in different religions, Tibetan politics, how Tibetans are like Jews (I will devote a whole post to this later), the Kalon Tripa election (Tibetan prime minister), Buddhist values, Obama, how Tibetan history compares to american history.

After dinner Dawa and I watched a violent movie, and I asked if he liked that kind of movie. He said yes, but he had to "put away his spirituality to really enjoy it because it doesn't have Buddhist values." I have never thought about that. Then he showed me some pictures of a hike he went on (I think I'm going to go with him and his friend on the hike soon) and his family. He also showed me some of his schoolwork. He studied graphic design and 3d animation, and now designs websites and teaches a computer class. He told me this morning that he wants to use his skills to promote more uprisings in Tibet and get it out from under china's control, which is such an awesome career path. When I think of 3d animation, I think of video games.

Amala and pala sleep in the bedroom, and Dawa and I sleep in the main room. I slept in my sleeping bag under a blanket, and my wrists were cold. When a part of you gets cold that you normally never think about, you know it's really cold. You can see your breath inside here. I bought myself gloves today because I borrowed Dawa's last night. Thankfully I have a hat and a scarf from other people's abroad experiences that are super warm.

I have more adventures from today, but I would rather write postcards. Also, I may actually write the next post on an actual computer on the actual internet! Which means pictures! Or coherent sentences! Probably neither, but one can hope.

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Mail!

I got two letters and a package today, which was awesome! I love the mail. Thank you!

I shared the chocolates with everyone, and they were a big hit. Tonight we had a goodbye dinner with our roommates, then all the girls had a dance party in the lounge! It's funny to see the songs Tibetans know, and also see their choreographed routines!

We are leaving Sarah tomorrow, but I said goodbye to Sonam tonight since she is also leaving on a weekend trip. Teaser: today we met our homestay families! Much to say, but it's late and I haven't yet packed (shocker).

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Capse 1

Day one of capse making

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Nya capse supa yin

The title translates roughly to i made capse (don't quote me on that)! Capse, pronounced cahp- say and spelled ka- se, is fried Tibetan bread that you make for losar, the new year. Creck, ape, elena, I miss you.

Yesterday and today we rolled out dough, cut it up, and made crazy designs. Making capse is so much fun. So much fun that we were late to class. The bread gets fried in a huge vat of oil. It is fab. There are fancy ones for the altar and simpler ones for eating. There are some you make by hand and others where you pour the batter directly into hot oil with a pastry bag. Those look like boardwalk food. The photo above is of Liz and our Tibetan teacher Tasha Sonam rolling dough. The good photos are still on Liz's camera, and I have to wait to jerryrig it onto the blog. (Many Things in India only work if you jerryrig them.)

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This is not about India.

Except for the part where I ran out of rupees on my phone. And then had to borrow Nellie's phone. That's India.

It's about my roommate. My real roommate, the only person I have ever lived with and will ever live with on my own college campus.

When Bex and I lived in Phitown freshman year, we had to leave our door unlocked because she lost her key so often. She flipped her sleeping schedule and actually became nocturnal; Bex stayed up all night, went to 8 am class and then passed out afterwards until dinner. Inviting her to any meal added at least ten minutes to event, as she would have to search for her id card in the mess of things on her side of the room. She created a pile next to her bed of all the stuff she needed- clothes, shoes, computer-so that she never had to leave her comforter, and learned Morse code so she could talk to our neighbors through the walls. When we went home for winter break, she forgot to turn off her alarm clock, and it blared at seven in the morning for a week until the basketball players who lived next door broke in and shut it off. She left food in our fridge forever, and started leaving her key in the bathroom on nights we would go out so she didn't forget where it was. She would order Dominos at two in the morning, and I would wake up to the smell of msg and empty boxes of cheesy bread. She didn't have a password for her computer, so all of our friends hacked in to her email and facebook and tormented her. And she made me look neat, which is quite a feat. Can't you tell why I live with her?

Anyway, while I wasn't watching, Bex grew up and got chosen to be an RA. And I am so excited.

Many more congratulations are in order. Jenny, Turtles, mftdcp, Tay, Yesk (holding down our roots! Can't wait to terrorize the freshmen), young GZ- king of the wholf, for real!, Melia, Marky Mark -you all rock. Congratulations and you are awesome.

Bexy, I am so proud of you, and so happy to be living with you for my whole college career, and also half of campus heard me freak out this morning when you told me.

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A Buddhist joke

Why do Buddhists always ruin their white boards?

Because they can't tell the difference between permanent markers and impermanent markers.

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Eating animals

I think we're having chicken for dinner. Vegetarianism to be reevaluated.

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Writing

Craig, our TA for culture class, just gave a talk on Tibetan biography and autobiography. Unlike in the west, where autobiography arose out of a sense of individualism (mostly around the time of the Renaissance) that remains everpresent in western thought, Tibetan autobiography emerged around the same time as doctrines like "no self" were introduced into Tibetan Buddhism. Writing about one's own life came about to reconcile day to day experiences with the idea that ultimately I am not distinct from my neighbor.

This is really interesting, especially in a modern context and a culture where I'm not really sure what I think about the self and individual experiences. For some people, keeping a journal makes experiences real. It doesn't happen for me, but sometimes things don't seem validated until I tell another person. In some way, maybe that's a form of writing it down, because I'm sharing my experience.

When you keep a journal, though, (and a blog is pretty much a journal), there's always the question of writing vs. Living. Right now, while I write, am I missing out on some experience? This was always my worry when I kept journals when I was younger, and is the reason why sometimes I wait a few days to post things here and then end up with four entries in span of twenty minutes.

Even if I don't miss out on anything while I'm writing this down, can I ever really relate what I'm seeing through words? Liz and I went on a walk to Gagal yesterday, and neither of us took our cameras. On the walk we talked about how a camera could never even capture the scene, and she wants to make her mom come visit (note to Liz's mom: hi! You should really come). We tried to describe it, and this is what we came up with:

We were walking along a concrete, dirt, and rock road that would count as a wide path in america suitable for walking one's dog. Here, it counts as paved. The road winds through bright green stalks of wheat and mustard seed, with colorful houses set into the fields every so often. There was a huge, neat pile of home fired red bricks next to the road, and you could see the white college buildings up on the hill with all different kinds of laundry fluttering from the balconies. In the background, the mountains were black and white and stood out in contrast to the sky blue sky. Breathing in smelled like dirt and manure and sunshine and the light was bright but not enough to make you squint. The bricks felt knobby but solid, and Liz fit some of the broken ones together.

Or this morning, on the roof:

The mountains are still black and white, and the sun's rays cut through the cloud cover to make it bright even as the sun remains hidden behind the mist. There are no clouds when you look towards the mountains, but behind them there is only white. It looks like the mountains represent the end of the earth, and only heaven is beyond. I talked about that with Liz too, and she thinks the ocean is also endless and it looks like there isn't anything beyond it. The difference for me is that I look at the ocean and imagine it goes on forever, but I look at the mountains and imagine that the world stops behind them.

So now you know what the mountains look like, and the road, but really you don't because maybe writing things down falsifies them automatically instead of making things real, which goes back to the Buddha's command to experience everything for yourself instead of taking anyone's word for it. Which might be difficult with some subjects, so pretty much the jury's still out on how I feel about writing.

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What we do for fun

Anna, Hong Kong, Julia and I went on this great walk that allowed us to see sweeping views of the towns and fields below. Julia and I took Liz on the hike on Saturday morning, and then decided to fight our way down to the river. We made it through lots of briars and mud and Liz got the back of her sweats really dirty. This is significant because Liz did a great job packing and only has three pairs of pants and five shirts.

Once we got down to the river we went rock hopping, which is awesome. Surprisingly, we saw a cow carcass by the river. It had no meat left on it and probably fed a lot of the stray dogs around. We only saw three legs and are still wondering what happened to the fourth.

We made friends with an american named Sam. This allowed me to catch up on Glee, because he downloads them onto his computer. I love this season so far, and am stoked to be able to watch here.

I started reading midnight's children, a book about the formation of india intertwined with the story of a family. I really like it and recommend it because it depicts the feeling of the country really well.

Ed made the Karmapa a mix cd (one of my favorite parts of meeting the Karmapa was Ed handing him the disc with the Kata and whispering "it's a mix cd!" The Karmapa kind of looked at it and handed it to one of his aides. Apparently he listens to rap music, though, so maybe he'll like it) and gave me some of the music from his extensive library.

The difference between the US and here is that internet is really hard to come by, so people read and dye their hair and listen to music and don't spend a lot of time on facebook or even watching movies. We watched a movie tonight and I was fascinated, more fascinated than I remember being by a movie in a long time. I wonder if that's from lack of exposure to tv or because 500 days of summer is really that good.

I enjoy doing different things with my time, but it is really difficult to be connected to the world and know what's going on without any form of news or information. I have a lot more to say about this but it is bedtime.

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Tibetan art

After the visit to the Karmapa, we went to the Norbalinka, the institute for training in traditional Tibetan artwork. It was absolutely beautiful.

The training program for painted tankas, or ceremonial Buddhist paintings, takes three years. Students learn how to prepare the canvas, measure the figures exactly (the Buddha's proportions were measured from his reflection in a body of water, and no depiction of him is considered auspicious unless it conforms to those proportions). They then learn how to make all the colors (which were originally made out of rock) and do these gorgeous, really detailed paintings. There are also woodcarving and metalworking students, but my favorite is the fabric applique tankas (pictured).

People cut, glue, iron, and sew all the separate pieces to make the tankas. The tanka in the temple at Sarah is a huge fabric applique one, and it was so awesome to see them in the process (the nun sewing the pieces places all of them together so I could take the picture).

After lunch, during which I practiced my Tibetan with Geshe-la, we wandered around. Their gift shop sold painted tankas, bed sheets, stuffed animals, and gold Buddha statues. They Oslo took credit cards (when you see that weird charge, don't worry about it, dad!)

At night we had dinner in the guest house dining hall with all our roommates. It was a lot of fun to eat together, practice Tibetan and english, and make a lot of jokes. There was one particularly funny moment when I was spelling something in Tibetan to Hong Kong. One of the Tibetan letters is pronounced "ah," and after I spelled it, Hong Kong made the same noise, which we often do when we understand something. Her roommate then cracked up since it sounds the same.

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A 25 year old reincarnated lama

We had an audience with the Karmapa on Friday.

For those who haven't been following, the Karmapa has recently been accused of stealing money and being a chinese spy by the Indian government. He is also really important in Tibetan Buddhism, second to the Dalai Lama, and is being talked about as the new political leader of Tibet when the Dalai Lama no longer is.

Julia and I went to prayers with Sonam, and Nellie joined us for breakfast and dressing up (we may be in india and refuse to shower in cold water, but we all still do makeup when we meet important people). We all got dressed in our chupas (Sonam even lent me her Tibetan flag pin to wear) and went over to his monastery. For some reason i was nervous the whole morning. After waiting and going through security, we walked up some flights of stairs to an incense filled landing. Then we walked into the Karmapa's quarters. The first people started prostrations, but the aids told us not to, so we lined up and offered him katas (white scarves) which he then placed back around our necks. Then he offered us envelopes with blessed strings and special pills in them. We were seated on the floor and he sat on a couch.

We asked him about the differences between our lives and his life. He said he had a lot of restrictions, but it was for the sake of tradition so he seemed to accept them. Anna asked a great question about reconciling Buddhist thought on emptiness with the Judeo-Christian idea of God. His response sounded like he meant that they were two strands of the same idea, which I'm not sure is really true. The answer was kind of confusing and hard to follow, though. He also talked a lot about non violence and particularly internal non violence, which I like because it pretty much emphasizes not being too hard on yourself.

The karmapa also gave a ted talk at tedindia, which is not the best ted talk I've ever seen but is informative on his life and also really cool because now I've met him in person.

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Debate

On Wednesday in philosophy class we got a taste of Tibetan debate. Debate is traditionally part of the monastic training here, and since ani-la is a nun, when she and Ryan got into an argument we got to watch and participate.

Picture this: while having a normal discussion in class, Ryan and ani-la dispute a point. Ani-la gets up out of her chair. She stands in the middle of the room, in nun's robes with a shaved head, and begins to debate. While asking a question, she steps with her left foot and stretches out her left hand. Her right hand makes a gracefully circle over her head, and the end of the question is punctuated by the smack of her left hand on her right.

In traditional debate on the grounds, the questioner stands and steps, while the opponent kneels. There are only four answers you are allowed to give, so the pressure is high. Debate ground can be really loud when you walk by. Apparently ani-la debated the monks at Sarah (who are novices or recently ordained) and schooled them.

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...but the colors are amazing

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...but the colors are amazing

Black mountains, white snow, blue sky, yellow sun, pink rays, purple mountains, orange sunset, green leaves, brown earth.

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We can see our breath...

The mountains. And Julia.

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Lost in translation

Going abroad means existing in another language.

More than eating different food all the time and lacking heat, running hot water, and a multitude of other creature comforts, the language barrier makes getting around difficult. The other things can be trying, but once you adjust your mindset, you can deal with almost anything. Not being able to communicate, though, makes life hard.

Today, Julia, Liz, and I walked to Gagal with our recently purchased fabric in search of a tailor to make us real Indian suits. Claudia, who is ahead of the game, already has one and gave us directions to the tailor she used.

Apparently, none of us have any command of the English language anymore, because we initially ended up in the wrong shop. The lady tailor we encountered did not speak a word of English, and we don't speak any Hindi. I never would have thought it would be so difficult to explain that I wanted someone to sew me a shirt and pants, especially because you can point to it, but we just could not get through to her.

We left and went across the street (Claudia told us later this was the correct shop), where they people inside the tailor (which was the size of a hallway) spoke minimal English. Enough to specify long or short sleeves, and to tell us that it would take one week. Hopefully we will look like real Indians by then!

This evening, Geshe-La gave a talk on the rituals of Tibetan Buddhism. He spoke in Tibetan with a translator, and I kept thinking that it would have been so much more educational if we could actually understand Tibetan. It didn't help that I misheard peacock feather as pickled feather, which created a lot of laughs when I finally figured it out later.

In other words, oy vey.

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I heart carbs

In the middle of a pasta factory. It smells so good. Nellie would like to sleep here. I concur.

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Cham cham

Hiking

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Breathe in, breathe out

Things I did before 430 today:

Put on my own chupa. Liz's roommate Kelsang taught a few of us last night. We took a video of it so as not to forget, then bought Kelsang tea at the canteen for her troubles.

Had an audience with a reincarnated lama. I forget his name right now, but he's the ninth in his lineage and pretty young, maybe 30. I didn't realize I would feel so nervous. When you walk in the room, you prostrate towards him, then walk towards him with a Kata (ritual scarf) held out. You kneel, he takes it and puts it on you as a blessing. He then said a few words on motivation and told us we were lucky to study the Dharma. Overall it was a weird experience, and he was one of the few monks we've met who hasn't seemed joyful.

Visited a preserved yogi's body. There are special monks who get picked from the monastery to meditate alone for about 20 years to become realized. Just before they die they often can meditate and appear dead without having their bodies decay. He didn't start to smell or have rigor mortus for about a week. His student decided his body should be preserved, so they use salt to drain it of fluid and then built a mandala to house his body. So we went into a house, walked to the top floor, circumambulated around what looks like a regular stupa, but when we got to the other side we could see his preserved body sitting up behind glass. They cover Ethe face with a cloth and built a beautiful red structure around it where people come to pray and meditate. We sat and had tea in front of his body! I though that was strange, but we learned a lot about the making of the mandala (it took about a year, but they don't work on it every day).

Met Ani Tenzin Palmo, a British woman who was ordained as a nun at 21. She's older now, but a firecracker, and answered some questions on her life and Buddhism generally. She had two great explanations.

The first was on our misunderstanding of the ego. Our nature is like the sky, where you can't grab on to a specific piece and say" this is mine." We're all kind of just the same thing. The second was on how to help the world. She's very much of the view that you must figure yourself out before you can help others, except the phrase she used was" breathe in, breathe out." In refers to working on yourself, out refers to helping others. She meant it as you must finish yourself before you help others, but in reality we do both all the time. You don't breathe in for 20 years and then start breathing out. I took that to mean that we should always be doing both.

Saw a temple in the process of construction. One of the weirdest things ever, because there were wires sticking out everywhere and paint splatters all over the walls. We also found out that it's always necessary to asl permission from the spirits whenever you build a house or a temple.

Sidenote: it's hard to sit crosslegged or prostrate in a chupa. But we looked great.

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Trip time

We have a weekend program trip to Bir, another Tibetan settlement east of Sarah. We're meeting the first westerner to be ordained as a nun. She spent 12 years meditating in a cave.

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Tibetan music

A quick note on the karmapa article for my aunt Linda: nytimes did a good job of getting the sentiments of the people here, although there is less of a sense that the indian govt is hostile toward Tibetans in exile (although there is fear of that, and the organizers of the protest were extremely thankful towards indian police and govt). Everyone thinks it's ridiculous that the karmapa would be a chinese spy, because apparently when he was 11 he threw down a chinese prepared speech and walked out of a hall in Beijing. He also left footprints and handprints in rock. We may get an audience with him, which would be awesome.

Yesterday we had a guest speaker-an american who went on this program 4 years ago and is currently trying to be a Tibetan pop singer. She sang at a nightclub in Tibet, then worked as an english teacher and got deported by the chinese. We learned a lot about how Tibetan artists utilize different symbols to express displeasure with chinese rule and sadness at the Dalai lama's absence. In the past year, though, the messages have gotten less veiled and more direct, which is super interesting, and she played us some videos available online that have english subtitles. Even with my limited knowledge I could tell that the sentiments are powerful and moving, and also dangerous. She said 75 percent of pop singers get arrested, which is crazy. She was arrested and is still trying to go back to Tibet.

We went to the golden temple this past weekend, and I have too much to say about it which is why I haven't written yet. I also have sweet pics but those will have to wait for better internet.

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Pet the cow!

Liz petting a cow. It's good luck!

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Julia got codirector!

Congratulations poolsie! She finally got the call last night after a week of talking herself down. Thus we are all unreasonably excited. Paaaaaay celebration.

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Karmapa march in the nytimes!

The march made it to the greatest news source in the world. Unfortunately I don't think they got a picture of us.
NYTimes: Tibetan Lama Faces Scrutiny in India

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Dear Dad

It's gorgeous out.

Happy birthday. I love you.

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Passang-Lak!

Us (minus Stephen- he was listening to a speech in Tibetan) with Passing-Lak

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Chupa girls

Hong Kong, Liz, Julia, Nellie, Michelle, Claudia, Kylie and mountains

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It's all downhill from here

There is some confusion about the meaning of this phrase. I am of the opinion that it means things will only get easier or better.

I went to prayers with Sonam again in the morning. Julia joined us and then the larger group had guided meditation. Ani-Lak (pronounced Ani la. Ani means nun, so it's comparable to calling her sister) led us through meditation on anger, which ended up being really interesting to work through. I could feel my body tensing and my heart speeding up as I sat there.

Then the day really got going. There was a march to support the 17th Karmapa (he is a lama like the Dalai lamas because the indian media has been stating that he is a chinese spy. We called a jeep and moved class to the afternoon, and almost everyone went up to McLeod Ganj to walk down the mountain from the main temple to the Karmapa's monastery. Our jeep driver was awesome and made it up in record time, so we got there around 930. We found a few of our roommates, who translated things for us and got us photos of the Karmapa to carry on the walk.

We left around 11 am in a line: monks and nuns first, then Tibetans, then foreigners. It was never very clear how long the walk was, but we heard estimates of 12 to 20 km. Thank goodness it was all downhill!

We walked on the road, and The line stretched on forever. We could see monks three switchback turns ahead of us. The chant floated back up the mountain from the people below, and it was absolutely beautiful with the mountains in the background. It was also crazy to see green fields from high up and then walk through them later!

Five of us did the whole walk together and made it to the monastery around 3 (after a stop for veg momos. We each got a bag of about 10 dumplings for 20 rupees. That's 50 cents. Win). The building were set facing the mountains, and the karmapa spoke, but of course it was in Tibetan. So all in all the peaceful march was the best part of the day.

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February

The weather here apparently knows it's february, because it got hot. Wear a short sleeve shirt, sweat in your chupa, steaming bucket shower hot. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My roommate and I went to prayers this morning. Prayers begin at 630, so we left five minutes beforehand since the temple is literally next door. Before they started, Sonam and I circumambulated the temple. I didn't realize what we were doing until about halfway around the building. I get the vibe that she's pretty religious, since i didn't see anyone else doing this except for one monk. Also we showed up before some of the monks and nuns, and she does more prayers and burns incense in the room.

Buddhist temples (or at least this one) are set up with a main alter at the front, but men and women sit on opposite sides facing one another. They chanted for 30 minutes, and it made me feel at home even though I don't speak Tibetan and had never heard any of the prayers before.

One of the more striking differences between Buddhism and western religions (specifically Christianity) lies in architecture. I fell in love with the state church in Vienna because of its columns and lighting and heard mass sung at the Vatican while the sun streamed through the windows and mixed with the music. Both of those experiences made me understand how people could believe in god. Places like st. Patrick's and the Notre Dame make sense in this context, where people build these huge beautiful monuments to god. But the temple here looks like a VFW hall with tankas hung around the walls, and the prayer feels different. Instead of praying to some higher power, people sound like they're working on themselves. Facing other people helps instigate that ambiance.

After breakfast Sonam helped me put on my chupa, which comes with all sorts of ties and buttons and has the added bonus of being impossible to fold. Hearing the candidate speak was super interesting, especially because the idea of exile politics is kind of radical and also a little weird, because it seems difficult to provide services to a scattered refugee population (and government should be all about regulation and services, right? Not that pesky foreign policy thing).

I have also discovered the key to enjoying Tibetan: taking a hot shower beforehand. Win. Also, http://www.cmsathletics.org/sports/wbkb/2010-11/releases/201101313tm6jr

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Chupa dayyyyyy

Guest post. This is julia...today was chupa day because we met tethong tenzin, a candidate for Tibetan prime minister in the upcoming elections. He's cool. Knows where CMC is, Michelle was stoked..

Chupas are hard to put on, hard to walk in, hard to sit in, and tied very tightly, but hey, we looked goooood.

We lost hong kong for a hot sec, but now we found her!

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