Ladakh

Surrounding mountains make up for a jagged horizon in these parts. The sun is high, the sky a deep blue, oxygen is scarce as nature slowly grinds the rocks into a multitude of different colored sand. Here in Ladakh, at the top of the Himalayas, people have some how found a way to divert the snow melt into intricate irrigation canals that nourish the green terraced valleys which scar the unforgiving lunar landscape. Even though the mountain passes are uncrossable 8 months out of the year, a unique set of people push on to survive in their colorful garments, in a home dotted with monasteries.

typical alley with water canal

Though a part of India, the only Indians I have encountered are rich city tourists trying to escape the heat of the rest of the country. The Kashmiris are here temporarily to sell their pashmina to the influx of summer tourists. But the majority of the people are recent Tibetans that have made this a safe home to practice and live Buddhism, and a mixture of Nepalese/tribal Chinese (for lack of a better description) that have lived here for hundreds of years.

I have traveled to many exotic places, but there is something about Ladakh that has a completely unique flavor. One is immediately awashed with a sense of peace and well being. At first I thought that it was a lack of oxygen, but now that I have been here for 2 weeks, I realize that what makes this a unique place are its people. 

 The Ladakhis welcome us everyday on the street with genuine smiles. The children reach out with their tiny hands waving and laughing "julleys". There is an innocence, curiosity and warmth that has not been corrupt in the last 20 years of tourism. Despite the harshness of life in this high altitude desert, people carry on with a purpose, dignity and a joy that put us entitled westerners to shame.


I am here in Leh, along with many other pilgrims that have traveled from a far, to attend a 2 week long initiation into the Tibetan branch of Buddhism led by the Dalai Lama. Despite the shortage of resources, monks and volunteers pass out free tea and roti bread every morning to all 150,000 attendees.

I was shocked to see that foreigners were given the covered seating section with the best view right up against the front of the stage with the monks... while the local people were forced to sit far in the back with no shelter from the rain or intense heat.


And despite this difference in treatment, the locals held no resentment. To the contrary, they would happily and excitedly welcome us, make sure that we knew where we were going, and that we had every comfort possible. Their attitude was that of a host honored to have guests that would come from so far, to participate in their event promoting world peace.


The richness of these selfless and generous interactions have made my heart swell with hope and gratitude. If a small population hidden in one of the hardest places to reach and survive on this planet, can receive us with so much openness, kindness and abundance... what would the world be like if the rich developed countries could focus some of their resources and education towards a more compassionate and positive global effort?

Back in the Bay Area!

(7 weeks ago)
Bye... bye Tundra. My being is slowly particularizing back into the frantic Bay Area. This transition is not a comfortable one. Natural sounds have been replaced by cars rushing by, airplanes flying overhead, machines whirling in the background. The beautiful landscape of plants, animals, water, and open sky is now dominated by concrete, wires, and people rushing by. Time has suddenly accelerated as if there are not enough minutes in the day.

(2 weeks ago)
Its been an interesting transition. Having to remember where I live and work, leaving on several road trips, interrupted by Burningman, ... has kept the pieces that made up my previous San Francisco life in suspension.

Recently however, unawares to me, reality has slowly settled. And it wasn't until this past Wednesday that I realized a familiar picture was forming before my eyes. Somehow, I have managed to flip back to an old channel! I have regressed to a previous life in the Bay Area.


*** Last Wednesday:

6:30 am. I am jarred into wakefulness by the annoying sound of my alarm. After stumbling to the coffee maker, I scurry about the apartment looking for clothes, keys and a tupperware lunch. I rush into work at 7:30. Students are already waiting in the hallway for me to open the doors to our 8am Biology tutoring. I multitask setting them up with their tutors while previewing an agenda I had written the day before. At 8:15 science teachers (and an uninvited principal) awaits my arrival to start our department meeting. The 9:30 bell interupts our work.

I rush back to the classroom. What was I going to teach today? Students noisely stream in. I can't make it to my desk without being intercepted a few times with urgent questions and immediate needs. I stare blankly at the monitor... trying to remember what I taught yesterday. The thread of my thought is distracted by a kid copying someone's else's homework while another harasses his neighbor.

Less than a minute has gone by and I already feel completely overwhelmed with the chaos and noise! My mind screams "sit down and shut the fuck up - all of you!" but instead I give the class a sweet smile and a warm "good morning!" They quiet down. This brief reprieve trigger's a motor memory. Teaching kicks in... and as always, the lesson organically unfolds.

At 11:00, I meet with the co-chair to discuss how we are going to position this year's science goals to get the department's buy in. Half an hour later, I meet with the biology teachers to design a common quiz. 12:30! Lunch time! Haaa...Two minute of silence. Interupted. Students rush in to make up quizzes, get missed assignments, serve detention, use the microwave, etc. Before I know it, the bell rings again and I have an entirely different class to teach. We are exhausted.

3pm: the end of the school day! Afternoon tutoring session commences. I am bombarded with new demands as I struggle to remember previous conversations and agreements. My mind slows to a stutter as my vision blurs out of focus. A pain tears through my stomach. I haven't eaten today. Just like I haven't eaten yesterday, or the day before, until 7pm. How did I manage (in just a month) to completely lose my footing and fall into this mind numbing lifestyle?

An alarm sounds off in my mind. REMEMBER!!!!!!  We had this discussion during the summer! We (the critical bitch and the nurturing higher self that are always arguing in my head), agreed to not slip back into the stream of unconscious living!

Before I can lose this train of thought, I pick up my purse and tell the teacher next door to take over. I peel out of the parking lot and head straight to the beach. I need somewhere quiet to just BE. To breathe. To pause. To re-evaluate.

***

I realize that my situation is not a unique one. Everyone that I know has their own version of getting sucked into the everyday whirlpool of expectations, deadlines, and the barrage of never ending things that need to get done. Probably the most common answer I get when I ask "so, how are things?", is: "busy, ...real busy." And I believe them, because the conversation taking place was booked a month in advance.

How did this stressful reality sneak back into my life? I was adamant about not falling into this trap again. And I can't help wondering: has being goal oriented, productive, hard working, and constantly self improving really brought satisfaction?????  I have come back to living in a society that defines us by what we do instead of who we are. When did achieving become more important than connecting?

We live at a break neck speed. We are overwhelmed with stimuli. We are constantly interrupted. We sacrifice sleep. We spend more time interacting with machines than with humans. We continually compromise our health and emotional well being. Most of us now a days, are just too busy to even notice how much we have lost. What point do we need to reach, to realize that  we collectively share a growing social disorder?

Living tundra!

View from the plane

Tundra Ground Cover

I came to the subartic to esape the summer heat and so far, its been F'in hot (80-90F) and bug ridden (no-see-ums, mosquitos, black flies and horse flies all competing to get some blood). I have to say that this is nothing like I had imagined. On a cursory look, the landscape seems all the same. Ponds interspersed with low vegetation, and some random clumps of pine trees. 

zoomed in ground cover

But if you zoom in onto the ground cover, you will see that it is made up of a quilt work of many tiny plants and lichen. Walking the tundra surface is like tromping over a foot deep spongy mossy mat. Because the tundra is only free of snow 4 months out of the year, summer time is when all life flourishes. Bonzai sized plants become covered in flowers and berries close to the ground. Birds pair up to nest and protect their young. Swarms of blood sucking insects feast on wandering biologists.

 
If you google earth Churchill, Manitoba - you will see that the facility (churchill northern studies center) where I live and volunteer as a research/field assistant is actually 25km from town - down some dirt road in the middle of nowhere.

Without my own car, I am mostly confined to the lab unless I am checking on experimental plots to collect data. Our mode of transportation has been ATVs and we carry a shotgun, case we are attacked by random polar bears. 

The bears of Churchill are pretty unique because they are one of the few populations that come onto land when the sea ice melts during the summer time. Because they depend on ice for their food source (where they wait for seals to pop their heads up breathing holes - to then rip the poor suckers out of the water), they basically don't eat June-Oct. Polar bears overheat easily. So they come to land to "hibernate", where their metabolism drops significantly (to reduce their energy intake and heat output).  They basically wander in a torpor as if sleep walking, or take naps in ditches. Running into one can still turn out pretty ugly - imagine dealing with a hot, hungry, cranky bear - so we avoid them at all costs. 

 
They bumble around land waiting for the ice to form again in October (tourist season here), and then congregate on shore to walk over the ice towards the north. These polar bears are very used to humans and are pretty curious having no issues with walking through town or approaching people. They are considered a real danger here and are taken very seriously. Earlier this week, I got my firearm license and discovered how bad of a shot I am. Lets just hope that nobody's life depends on me using it.

So far I have really enjoyed my experience here. I work alongside the research coordinator which gives me a chance to have my fingers in all ongoing projects versus the repetition of always working on the same experiment. I also get to have a better understanding of the administrative side of running a nonprofit facility. Visiting researchers come here to either study tundra biodiversity, climate change related topics or fluxes in the electromagentic field of the earth and the aurora borealis. I am flooded with interesting info on a daily basis and get to see the equipment they use to measure these factors.

My boss is a just-do-it type of gal: If there is a problem, go into the garage to scavenge for tools and parts, and rig something up. Take this shotgun apart, clean and oil the insides, and be ready to hit the range this afternoon. Go rake the shit in the compost toilet bin and make sure to aerate the worms... 

I spend 50% of my time out in the field collecting data and dodging the bugs. At dinner, I get to network with other researchers and pepper them with questions about their on-going projects. I love being in a community of scientist that spend their time nerding out in nature! I think that this is the reason that I return to volunteering gigs in different labs as often as I can. What better way is there to deeply understand the landscape that surrounds us?

the calm before the storm...

The highlight of my time here so far, has been a recent kayaking trip to check out the beluga whales where the river meets Hudson bay. It was a beautiful glassy evening, easy paddle in the huge river. The whales were frolicking everywhere. Some would glide under  the kayak and roll onto their sides for a better look. They were so curious and playful. The night would have been perfect had the weather not suddenly changed on us. The wind kicked up and the water got real choppy. We were in the middle of a 3mile wide river with the current and wind now going against us. No matter how hard I would paddle, it didn't feel like we were moving at all. I got pretty scared. We were a tiny speck of color over freezing gray water. If a wave tipped the boat, it would be game over. No one would be able to reach us before hypothermia setting in. We paddled forever. I was wet, cold, exhausted and demoralized with the slow progress. When we finally got close to shore, my relief was replaced by panic as I spotted a giant polar bear staring at us standing on its hind legs. I nearly crapped my pants. This is not how I wanted my first bear sighting to be.We called park services that quickly responded by scaring it into the water (great, now we don't know where it is) and then we scrambled on to shore to the safety of our cars.


Living and working on the tundra has been a novel experience. Its reassuring to know that there are large parts of this planet that still remain wild and mostly unpopulated... and so close to home!