Jang Girl Kitchen
Jang Girl Kitchen

Today was splendiferous. We woke early. In the darkness of early morning rain, I shuttled Novita and Ryan, bags, Lani and finally Ian to the Sumo. "El Tamang, I'm trying to sleep. Can you please… no music now." This inadequate rest was broken when we came to a river crossing. El Tamang, the driver, stopped. It seemed he wanted to go back. Then I saw a small dog walk across the stream. By this, I judged the water was not as high as we had supposed. To prove my point, I took of my shoes and waded across it. When the driver came across, he said, "Bhutan border, cancel Zimethang, OK?" I told the family our driver was trying to shirk his work. Several kilometers before Lumla, we were stopped by a landslide. Judging from the fact we were the second car in line, it had just happened. I thought, "This is the end of the plans of the day." But there was a bulldozer on the other side just starting to clear it. Novita said it would take 4 days. I thought it would not take them more than 4 hours. I wanted to watch. So did Ian. Mama, Lani and Ryan looked on. The bulldozer picked up rocks, then dropped them down the gully. A sign warned "Shooting Rocks." Ian and I were close to the landslide when we heard a terrible sound. Reacting to core level instincts, I ran, probably before I saw a rock the size of a small watermelon hurling down the hill. Ian and the men in the vicinity all did the same. I think none of the rocks reached the road, but it was a primeval scare. When the bulldozer pushed the biggest boulder over the edge, I filmed while it tumbled with great force down the ravine. Before the road was clear, I led the family to the other side, all in our sandals. We taxied a few km to Lumla proper. After a good meal of rice, supaji and dhal with chai (milk tea) we took off again. I was worried that the driver was going to try to eliminate one of the two destinations (the Bhutan border or Zimethang), but he said, "We go Zimethan, then the border." Off he raced. The road was spectacular, as had been the drive to Lumla.All is green with the exception of tan cliffs, spindly white cascades in every view, and the villages, bridges, chortens, and tilled fields, all of which are decorated with red, green, white, yellow and/or blue prayer flags fluttering and swaying in the breeze, breathing good will into the atmosphere, a spirituality than can be tangibly felt. The vast size of the mountain walls opposite the valley which we zigzag down to can really be appreciated when one spies a village occupying its most horizontal slopes. A photograph of the mountainside can be zoomed into until the display is at maximum magnification, revealing the village. When you zoom out, you realize that village is taking up less than 1/1000th of the scene. It is truly remarkable. The road we take is essentially a swichback. Some straight sections might amount to kilometers in length but sometimes the 180 degree curves some even few hundred meters. We whiz by prayers walls that are placed every kilometer or so, some with embeded ancient prayer stonea, but most simply have the prayers painted. They are 2-4 meters long and about 2 meters high. A group of monkeys is in our path but later a billboard makes me question if they were not the ?Arunachal White Macacques (sp? name?) - see photo).The stupa that Lobsang showed me on his phone is not actually in Zimethang. It is in ?Gonsam. After reaching the floor of the river canyon, we proceeded across a bridge onto the west side. When I saw the stupa, I was more impressed then I'd expected. I thought it must be at least 700 years old and possibly 1000. The eyes that are painted on it are reminiscent of the famous stupas in Kathmandu, but the setting of this one, backdropped by a lazy canyon leading to the mysterious Tibetan border and with a wild, crashing river within earshot, while not a tourist's soul save ours could be felt within 100 kilometers. I thought the road ended here. Sincee Tamang drove up to the grassy lawn in front of the stupa. But when we went out the back gate to walk to Zimetahang, I saw,with no small disappoinment that it continued on. It seems that even the villages on seemingly inaccessible mountainsides are connected by roads - and I note, with the effect that these lanes cut into steep slopes invariably cause landslides on both the uphlll and downhill sides. From a distance, while the thin forested lines are picturesque, the gullies of brown are scars in an otherwise pristine pastoral setting. Up close, nearly everywhere, the perfection of simplicity (I was told by Ruth Bernhard that the Japanese use the phrase The Perfection of Simplicity) is soiled by sundry wires. Ian walked back to tell the driver to come uproad. A butterfly of exquisite beauty posed for me. (I tell Lani that butterflies seem to always keep coming back to the same place. I also inform her that they are curious.) We met Mama and Ryan. Looking up at the structures above, I am happy to note that they look made of adobe and remain unpainted, giving off a natural vibration. The ever-present wires get in the way of my photographs, but for now I am content despite them. On the ground are orange blossom, opening like a small bird of paradise with a tongue of fibers. The forests are highlighted with orange, but I don't know which tree it is, because further up the road, a second species of orange flower grows in clusters. Tamang, the driver, came up with Ian. Mama had predicted that Ian couldn't communicate with Tamang and they would not come. I remained silent. "Good job, Ian," I said, as they rolled up. Zimethang was still a way up the road. Tamang stopped the car and ran back. He plucked a twig with rose colored berries, then shared them with us. The family went crazy over them and said they wanted more. We stopped again and everyone, including Ryan, picked more. We sat on the steps of a yellow government rest house and drank tea and ate crackers, Top Gold. This concrete perch afforded a good view of the next ridge northwards. "How far is China" I asked the woman. Tamang had said it was 95 kilometers, but that seemed too far to me. "20," said the woman. "Only 20 kilometers?" She confirmed. A switchback road led up a mountainside. Predicting that when I said I wanted to go to Bhutan, Tamang would say there is not enough time, I asked and was ready wtih my plan B: to follow the road north. I thought he agreed. We went down to the level of the river, but when we came to the bridge, I pointed back up and asked him about the mountain road. He said that went to China and refused to try. But when we crossed the bridge, we came to a T. I asked him to go north, to the right. To my surprise, Lani joined me in convincing him. He said the army had a checkpost. I said, "OK, let's go up to the checkpost and then we can turn around." Lani agreed with me that it was intriguing to try this. Knowing that Tibet was nearby added air of mystery to the landscape. Mist kissed sentinel ridges. Around a corner, the military post appeared 200m off. Prudent, Tamang turned around and did not follow my request to go up and talk to them. Maybe for the best. Then we started the 70 (some-odd) kilometer drive back to Tawang. When we passed the grandiose views I'd missed taking photos of on the way down, I stopped in cool, quiet air and, assisted by Lani, I captured images using a tripod. In Lumla, we stopped to eat at the same cafe. Lani sat with me in the front seat. It was a memorable discussion for me, becuase she lauded my album. Her sincerity was evident. She particularly concentrated on Sky Tender. She mentioned it and Global Village as two of her favorite songs of all time. She said how much she liked Beacon, a surprise to me, and Revelation of Giving. She praised War (is a Mistake). Honestly, this was cathartic for me. She said that she had never really listened to my album before. For the first time, I imagined that my album could become popular. She said that she wanted to hear me perform my album live. This gave me dreams. At about 9p, we climbed to be-soaked Tawang in visibilty not far beyond the hood of the car. We shuttled ourselves and bags up the stairs to the room, as we'd done in reverse in the morning. Despite the gloomy, drizzly scene, I went out for a run. I called V. Only murmurs, as usual at night. A warm but not hot meal awaited us. After eating, we retired. I think I made love to Novita. It was very good.

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