Last week we went on a trek, climbing the winding path up and around the mountains was an amazing experience. I loved seeing how the average Ladakhi lives, the warm wood stove and hot tea made the long, at times challenging, days of trekking worth it. On the first day as we were hiking I began to notice some of the other VISpas were lacking enthusiasm and I felt like we needed a song to heighten every one's spirits. I was trying to think of a hiking song, but there was not a single one that seemed to fit. However I did have the well known American song Just Dance by Lady GaGa stuck in my head. I began to change the chorus to Just HIKE instead of just dance and the lyrics just kind of fell into place. By the end of the day I had come up with lyrics to the entire song and they go something like this:
Never can quite get enough
All of the rocks they start to creep
(start to creep by)
how does he breathe up here
cant seem to find the air
where is my group?
I lost my guide
Oh, hey there you are
I love this mountain baby
but i cant keep up anymore
keep it cool
whats the name of this hill
I cant remember but its alright
its alright
Just hike
Gunna be okay
da da do do
Just hike
Drink some water babe
da da do do
Just hike gunna be okay
Jus-Jus-Just Hike
Wish I could jet-pack right on up
How did we get futher down?
Control your breathing babe
Vallies have hills they say
What if we fall down and die
What goin' on up in front?
I love this mountain baby
but i cant keep up anymore
keep your cool
whats the name of this hill?
i cant remember but its alright its alright
Just hike
Gunna be okay
da da do do
Just hike
Drink some water babe
da da do do
Just hike gunna be okay
Jus-Jus-Just Hike
When I come through
This small path
checkin' out that pretty veiw
cant believe my eyes
so many mountians with out a flaw
and i aint gunna give up eva
tryna make it up without a stroke
Ima make Ima make Ima make it
we'll get there by tomorrow yeah
(hey i can see your losing some energy)
the way you dragin' round those feet
(down and down)
There is no reason at all you cant keep up with me
In the mean time let me see you hike around
And hike
Gunna be okay
da da do do
Just hike
Drink some water babe
da da do do
(REPEAT 3x)
It became a joke and when the spirits would get low I would sing the chorus to help pick everyone back up. There were many songs that we sang including Eye of the tiger and Your body is a wonderland. Over all the trek was a blast and we have all gotten creative whether its with song lyrics or with the "trash" that is now decoration. I love everyone and we are always coming up with new ways to have a good time. I cant wait for the next trek.
-Jessika
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
I am a washing machine
swish swash splash
I am a washing machine.
I don't wash my clothes very often but when I do it is quite the experience.
I throw my podunk jeans, Harley Davidson t-shirt and darn tough socks into a bucket that has earlier in the trip been a puke bucket. Then I lug them from my room down the stairs, out the door and into the bathroom. The bathroom is a room with a bunch of sinks. I turn the faucet on and fill up my bucket.
The icy glacier water turns my dry, cracked hands and arms numb and pink. I toss in a packet of "Henko" detergent when suddenly, without warning, my hands turn into the thing in the middle of the washing machine that thumps the dirt and grime out of your poly-cotton blend t-shirts.
I don't really dread this spectacle.
It is simply part of life here.
The rhythm that grabs my arms and sways my feet, is merely the rhythm of SECMOL.
I am a washing machine.
I am a washing machine.
I don't wash my clothes very often but when I do it is quite the experience.
I throw my podunk jeans, Harley Davidson t-shirt and darn tough socks into a bucket that has earlier in the trip been a puke bucket. Then I lug them from my room down the stairs, out the door and into the bathroom. The bathroom is a room with a bunch of sinks. I turn the faucet on and fill up my bucket.
The icy glacier water turns my dry, cracked hands and arms numb and pink. I toss in a packet of "Henko" detergent when suddenly, without warning, my hands turn into the thing in the middle of the washing machine that thumps the dirt and grime out of your poly-cotton blend t-shirts.
I don't really dread this spectacle.
It is simply part of life here.
The rhythm that grabs my arms and sways my feet, is merely the rhythm of SECMOL.
I am a washing machine.
Trekking
We went on our first trek this past week. The first day was exhausting but soon I started to be able to look around me as we walked and appreciate this amazing place where we have the opportunity to be living. walking from village to village and staying with people in there homes gave me an opportunity to see Ladakh in a way that we don't while at SECMOL. Although most of the families we stayed with spoke limited english and our Ladakhi still has a long way to go before we can communicate more than the very basics, I always felt amazingly welcomed and at ease when spending time in their homes. The second day, after a shorter but steeper hike, a group of us was resting in the guest room, most were asleep, and Matt and I were reading and playing with the five year old boy who lived there. After a little while, he beckoned us into the kitchen, turned on some music and started dancing. The rest of the group soon came and joined in, and he wouldn't let us stop for maybe two hours. The wonderful thing is, that although this would be a bit unusual in the US, here it seems to happen quite often.
Morgan Mahdavi
I have been waiting to come to Ladakh for almost two years; I first heard of VIS when my friend came here in the spring semester of 2007. As a sophomore, I knew that this was something I wanted to do. Now, two years later, I am finally here; two years of saving and waiting and now, I am here. And even after those two years of waiting, preparing, now that I am here, I realize that there is no way I could ever have been ready for the wonderful place that awaited me. Ladakh is unlike anything I have ever known, so much so, that I don't know what to compare it to so that you reading this at home can understand what I mean.
Ladakh is new. Ladakh is a new meaning to the word comfort. It is a new bed, new faces, new food, new family. Ladakh means frostbite on my toes and sunburn on my face. Ladakh means mountains, towering above me all the time, holding up the sky. Ladakh is smiling face, hugs and handshakes. Ladakh is SECMOL, my new home.
In Ladakh, I feel like a different person. Everyone and everything here is so genuine that it is impossible to feel sad. Even though we have been gone for over a month now, I can honestly say that I have hardly gotten homesick. How can I miss home when I am here? Here, I am surrounded by friends all the time. Here, I am learning by doing, learning by exploring and trying new things. And how can anyone be upset around the beautiful Ladakhi people? These people, students and teachers a like, are the most happy and carefree people I have ever met. Nothing phases them. Take, for example, my friend Jigdol. For the first couple weeks, my daily responsibilty was "electricity" which meant three times a day, Jigdol and I would go down to the power house, rotate the solar panels and check the batteries. It was a pretty easy job and it took about 5 minutes each time. One day, Jigdol left early and asked me to turn the last panel by myself. I agreed and as he disappeared out of sight, I went to work on the final panel, which is above the Indus, on a sharpely sloping hill. As I started to turn the panel for the next morning, it started to pick up speed and soon went past it's set place. I screamed as the panel came to rest in a position I'd never seen before. Though still attached, it was definately not in a natural spot. I had broken the solar panel. Fighting back tears, I ran to find James, or Amy, or Jigdol, anyone who could help me. Jigdol was the first one I found and I franticly told him what happened. We broke into a run. As he surveyed the sad sight, which to me looked like a broken corpse, he turned to me and smiled a smile, trying to cover his distress. "It's ok, don't have tension." He hugged me and went to work securing the panel, so the wind wouldn't blow into the Indus. As we walked back to the kitchen, he took my hand and smiled, telling me all was ok, that it would be taken care of tomorrow.
Everyday since then, I have checked on the solar panel, which was taken apart and still has not been put together and everyday I ask Jigdol whats going on. He always smiles and tells me not to worry. And it's worked. I have stopped being concerned. It turns out that there was an old bolt and that it happened to give way when i was changing it. It would have happened to anyone. But I don't think I will ever forget that feeling of utter fear and horror as I watched that solar panel fall, nor will I ever forget Jigdol's smiling face, as he comforted me, assuring me that everything be alright.
Ladakh is new. Ladakh is a new meaning to the word comfort. It is a new bed, new faces, new food, new family. Ladakh means frostbite on my toes and sunburn on my face. Ladakh means mountains, towering above me all the time, holding up the sky. Ladakh is smiling face, hugs and handshakes. Ladakh is SECMOL, my new home.
In Ladakh, I feel like a different person. Everyone and everything here is so genuine that it is impossible to feel sad. Even though we have been gone for over a month now, I can honestly say that I have hardly gotten homesick. How can I miss home when I am here? Here, I am surrounded by friends all the time. Here, I am learning by doing, learning by exploring and trying new things. And how can anyone be upset around the beautiful Ladakhi people? These people, students and teachers a like, are the most happy and carefree people I have ever met. Nothing phases them. Take, for example, my friend Jigdol. For the first couple weeks, my daily responsibilty was "electricity" which meant three times a day, Jigdol and I would go down to the power house, rotate the solar panels and check the batteries. It was a pretty easy job and it took about 5 minutes each time. One day, Jigdol left early and asked me to turn the last panel by myself. I agreed and as he disappeared out of sight, I went to work on the final panel, which is above the Indus, on a sharpely sloping hill. As I started to turn the panel for the next morning, it started to pick up speed and soon went past it's set place. I screamed as the panel came to rest in a position I'd never seen before. Though still attached, it was definately not in a natural spot. I had broken the solar panel. Fighting back tears, I ran to find James, or Amy, or Jigdol, anyone who could help me. Jigdol was the first one I found and I franticly told him what happened. We broke into a run. As he surveyed the sad sight, which to me looked like a broken corpse, he turned to me and smiled a smile, trying to cover his distress. "It's ok, don't have tension." He hugged me and went to work securing the panel, so the wind wouldn't blow into the Indus. As we walked back to the kitchen, he took my hand and smiled, telling me all was ok, that it would be taken care of tomorrow.
Everyday since then, I have checked on the solar panel, which was taken apart and still has not been put together and everyday I ask Jigdol whats going on. He always smiles and tells me not to worry. And it's worked. I have stopped being concerned. It turns out that there was an old bolt and that it happened to give way when i was changing it. It would have happened to anyone. But I don't think I will ever forget that feeling of utter fear and horror as I watched that solar panel fall, nor will I ever forget Jigdol's smiling face, as he comforted me, assuring me that everything be alright.
buteifull Ladakh
man Ladakh is amazing i don't think i could have asked for a better place to spend a semester. the land scape here is the most incredible thing i have ever seen and every one here is super nice. it's defiantly true what people have been telling me, that once you come here once you will be back again and again.
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