Of apricots and stones

It's been almost 30 years since I had this dream of a land full of stones, where wherever a drop of water is found, the greenery explodes. In 1995, I found this dreamland in Ladakh. And now I'm here again.

Many people at home have asked me to let them participate in my journey. I would like to do that. As there are some among them who have already been to Ladakh, while others are completely unfamiliar with it, I hope I can satisfy everyone. So here we go:

Ladakh. Land of stones. Land of snow-capped mountains. Land of apricots and contrasts. On the plane, I muse in a rather tired state, thinking that the many apricot trees fit very well here despite the extremely dry landscape around them. Apricot - just the word evokes a soft feeling in me, reminiscent of caressing, of sweet southern abundance. Currently, the trees have just finished blooming, the harvest will take place in 2 months. For now, the sweet fruits are only available as dried fruits - and thus the circle closes again to the dry, stony land. The homeland of my Buddhist teacher, which I encountered 30 years ago in a dream, even though I had never heard of it, let alone seen it, fascinates me in a very special way. Every time I have to travel back home, it feels like leaving my real homeland. So you can imagine how eagerly my thoughts in the plane long to reach my destination.

But at the airport in the Ladakhi capital Leh, reality quickly catches up with me. My suitcase stayed in Delhi and will only arrive the next day.

At least I get rid of a German fellow traveler who tries to convince me how great she is because she rides through the Himalayas on a motorcycle, speaks all the languages of the area - including Chinese - and how I am also a Buddhist.

A good friend

Without me. I think she talks a bit too much about herself and I'm glad she's already gone when I leave the airport building. Instead, I see a face smiling at me that I would much rather see a million times: Rangdröl, a monk and a very good friend for 22 years. As promised, he is standing there in his red robe and beaming. I think he's a little proud too as he maneuvers me into his own small car. I learn that a Suzuki compact car costs 3500 euros here. Really inexpensive. And the small car shows its power on the mountain as Rangdröl casually overtakes an SUV.

Leh is completely unrecognizable. The last time I was here, 15 years ago, there were a few streets, some hotels, restaurants, and shops. Now Ladakh's capital is actually a city. Noisy and confusing. Because I don't have internet, I even have to go old-school and ask a police officer for directions back to the Zanang Hotel.

As a VIP at Zanang

Rangdröl has put me up at the Zanang because it belongs to his brother-in-law. And so I stay there for free in the new building. Anyone who has been to Ladakh knows that hot water from a completely clean shower is not a given there. In 1995, we still relieved ourselves in holes in the ground and then "rinsed" ourselves with plenty of dust. That's in the past. Many things are more modern here today.

However, the joy of reunion is already mixed with symptoms of altitude adjustment in the afternoon of my arrival - headaches, fatigue, shortness of breath. Fortunately, Rangdröl's niece Angmo has the right medicine ready. I sleep for about 15 hours, then I feel better. And Rangdröl drops by with my freshly arrived suitcase. He also brings a nun. Her name is Padma Chodrol, which for once I can remember. It's really difficult with these Tibetan names that sound so foreign.... The nun wants to accompany us to Lamayuru, from where we will continue to the Bodhkarbou nunnery.

However, Rangdröl insists on inviting us to lunch first and then taking us on a sightseeing tour of the villages off the route.

Back in Moonland

In the late afternoon, we finally reach Lamayuru. The small town with its nearly 700 inhabitants is also called Moonland because of its rock formations reminiscent of a lunar landscape. This is where my Buddhist teacher Sonam Jorphel Rinpoche lived for a long time. And this is also the place I saw in my dream 30 years ago. You can imagine how surprised I was when I realized during my first visit here in 1995 that this place actually exists not just in my dream but in the real world.

Maybe Tonyot experienced something similar. He is also a monk and a very old friend of mine. When he saw me today in Lamayuru Monastery, he exclaimed in surprise, 'Is it a dream?' No. I'm not a dream. And I'm really here. Even though I still can't quite believe it myself...

To be continued...