We arose a 04:30 and Jibi and I were at the Thorun La Pass, 5416 meters, by 07:00. We extended his hand and said "Thank you!"
"NO, Thank YOU!" I responded.
It was easier than I expected, probably because Jibi was carrying my load.
We had some tea, took a few photos in the snow, and started down. Immediately the scenery changed, again. After crossing the pass, we moved into the "Monsoon Umbrella, the north-western side of the Great Himalayas that gets much less rain because it's shielded by the big mountains. So the landscape, off in the distance, was brown and moon-like.
It was very steep, but eventually we got to Muktinath, altitude 3750 meters. I popped my giant blood-blisters and went off to Muktinath Temple. I have been to quite a few gompas, temples, and monasteries already, and I am losing the sense of awe, but this one was different. It was both Buddhist and Hindu. In the same temple, you have a Tibetan Prayer Wheel and a Vishnu Murti; there are old Tibetan guys spinning their wheels and Sadhus watching their hair grow.
As I approached the inner temple, five sadhus greeted me warmly with salutations and exhortations to their various Gods. "We are holy men from Mother India! We have no mother, no father, no home!" They were smoking cigarettes and counting their coins but they did not ask me for money. For access to the Inner Temple, I was asked to register, including my name, nationality, and the amount of my donation. By now, I'm cynical about temples asking for money. Why do they need nationality--for marketing data? Will they analyze the data and then observe, "the Germans are giving the most--we need to add Willkommen to our temple gate!"
I turned around and gave my donation to the Sadhus instead. It just seemed so much more honest, the way these homeless guys were counting their coins and smoking their cigarettes.
"NO, Thank YOU!" I responded.
It was easier than I expected, probably because Jibi was carrying my load.
We had some tea, took a few photos in the snow, and started down. Immediately the scenery changed, again. After crossing the pass, we moved into the "Monsoon Umbrella, the north-western side of the Great Himalayas that gets much less rain because it's shielded by the big mountains. So the landscape, off in the distance, was brown and moon-like.
It was very steep, but eventually we got to Muktinath, altitude 3750 meters. I popped my giant blood-blisters and went off to Muktinath Temple. I have been to quite a few gompas, temples, and monasteries already, and I am losing the sense of awe, but this one was different. It was both Buddhist and Hindu. In the same temple, you have a Tibetan Prayer Wheel and a Vishnu Murti; there are old Tibetan guys spinning their wheels and Sadhus watching their hair grow.
As I approached the inner temple, five sadhus greeted me warmly with salutations and exhortations to their various Gods. "We are holy men from Mother India! We have no mother, no father, no home!" They were smoking cigarettes and counting their coins but they did not ask me for money. For access to the Inner Temple, I was asked to register, including my name, nationality, and the amount of my donation. By now, I'm cynical about temples asking for money. Why do they need nationality--for marketing data? Will they analyze the data and then observe, "the Germans are giving the most--we need to add Willkommen to our temple gate!"
I turned around and gave my donation to the Sadhus instead. It just seemed so much more honest, the way these homeless guys were counting their coins and smoking their cigarettes.
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