After an unnecessary day spent in the stench and the din of Delhi, that hot, noisy and contradictory city in India, it is now time for the flight to Leh, a flight often described in travel literature as both spectacular and risky. Well, I guess books have to be filled somehow. In any case, it is not risky at all. What is all the more impressive is the spectacle of the initially snow covered sea of mountains that is the mighty Himalayan Range, which we fly over for more than an hour. Then the snow slowly disappears and we fly into a lunar landscape, brown on brown. How can life exist here? As we suddenly come in to land we get a view of the Indus Valley, whose banks are lined with fertile strips of land like an oasis.
Kharma greets us with a “Julee!” He grew up in Zanskar and has lived in Leh for an eternity now. Kharma helped us with our preparations for this trip. With him is Lama Tsewang, a monk at the Lingshed Monastery in Zanskar, two days’ walk from here. Even this very first encounter has a good feel to it. Tsewang’s friendliness spreads around us, a blanket of warmth in the fresh, thin air. Hemmed in by China and Tibet to the east and the crisis region of Kashmir to the west, the people of Ladakh appear unimpressed by all the political conflicts. Friendliness abounds.
After a very restful first day spent acclimatising, Claudi, Gaudenz and I slowly start to explore the area. As we have arrived in late September we are spared the large streams of tourists. Life in Leh radiates a feeling of peacefulness. We take a leisurely stroll up to the Shanti Stupa in Changspa. Enthroned in a commanding position high above the town, this stupa was built by Japanese Buddhists as a monument to world peace and was inaugurated by the Dalai Lama in 1985. Here we get our first breathtaking view over the Indus Valley.
Countless prayer flags flutter in the wind. We are less impressed by the huge, empty Royal Palace, which nestles between the steep mountains above Leh, and rather more by the fact that at this high altitude even the slightest effort has us short of breath. Later we take a late afternoon stroll through the streets of Leh. I feel good here; it reminds me somehow of Chefchaouen, my favourite place in Morocco. Perhaps somewhat significantly, during an evening walk, I hear the call to prayer of the muezzin, even though over 90 % of the people here are Buddhists. Then, at around 6 pm, I am treated to a fantastically colourful spectacle as the sun goes down at tremendous speed, bathing the little mountain town in the glow of its evening light.