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Zangla | Zangla Tourism
Located at a distance of approximately 35 km from Padum, Zangla is one of the major tourist attractions of Ladakh. Till a few years, it was under the rule of a titular king, who is not alive anymore. Zangla is mainly famous for a number of places that the village has. There is an old castle in the village, which now lies mostly in ruins. The only intact remnant of the castle is a small chapel that overlooks the deserted valley below. Quite near to the castle is an old Nunnery, housing a small population of monastic nuns.
Another place worth visiting in Zangla, Ladakh, is an old monastery situated in the nearby village of Tsa-zar, mid-way between Stongdey and Zangla. The monastery boasts of some of the most exquisite wall paintings. The village of Zangla in Ladakh also serves as the nodal point on the popular Padum-Stongdey-Zangla-Karsha-Padum round trip, covering most of the cultural sites of Zanskar. Last but
Only the older monks appear for the ritual, novices serve tea and, one hour into the ceremony, tsampa for breakfast. The sun defies the clouds, and enough light comes in through the open door and the glass-front above to reveal the beautiful assembly hall's paintings and statues. The paintings around the upper part show historic figures, part of them being covered by old thangkas.
The prayers started slowly, and are picking up intensity and strength. Occasionally they are interrupted by cymbals, bells and drums. It might appear rather monotonous, but in a way it is very relaxing to sit there and just listen and watch. It's a good time to remember the last few days and daydream, and think about loved ones at home. After nearly two hours the ceremony comes to an end.
After a spicy post-breakfast / pre-lunch instant noodle soup I walk down to the main village and stop often in barley fields where people, mostly entire families, are harvesting. Though the number of unharvested fields is large, nobody seems unduly worried or in a hurry. They are ready to take a break or have their lunch, and invite me to sit down and join them, or at least stay for a chat once they realize I speak a little Tibetan.
Despite being on the main route, the atmosphere in Lingshed is quite different from Pimo or other villages on the main trail. Is it because the village community is larger and thus the experience with ignorant tourists is more evenly distributed and makes it easier for local people to deal with it? Or is it because most tourists stay at the campsite and don't have the time or energy to walk down to the village, and those who are probably wise enough not to hand out balons or sweets.
One family is taking a break from cutting grass for winter, and prepare their lunch. They invite me to have some gyathuk, a thick soup with dough conch-shells, potatoes and spinach. They all live together in same house, the old grandmother, the attractive mother with her child and her husband. Her nun sister sometimes lives with them, sometimes in a monastery. The nun's name is Tsewang, she's in her mid-thirties and became a nun ten years ago. Her English is quite good, so we speak in whatever language we get our message across most easily. She enjoys being a nun, and also likes living in remote Lingshed. Nevertheless, she says, Leh is a great place and she likes it for shopping and eating. Eating?, I ask. Yes, she loves the variety of food she can't get here, like fruit such as bananas or apricots. Once again it hits me in the face: how spoiled are we in the west?
Barley is the staple diet, in addition to that people grow potatoes, turnip, radish and carrots. But for fruit it is definitely too high, what a contract to the Indus valley where people barely know what to do with all their apricots. In summer the nuns help their families on the fields. In winter they have time for their studies, and married women can take care of the house then without the assistance of the nuns. But being housewife is also very interesting and boring, Tsewang says; preparing food, taking care of cattle, weaving clothes. While mother and nun extend the chat, grandmother and husband are soon back to work. Their dresses are nice, like everybody else they carry a small bag matching their clothes in which they throw all the worthwhile things they find during their work, like flowers, peas, herbs.
Their house is a little further down, "the small one" they say is big enough for their 12 member family. I ask them who owns the fancy-looking house next to it and they laugh, resisting the temptation to talk bad about their neighbours I think.
It is to a large part for those moments that I come back again and again to the Himalayas. Despite all the difference between us there is still a solid common ground and understanding that makes talking, listening, learning something new so interesting, and leaves lasting impressions.
After arriving back at camp I'm ready for a nap, recovering from a cold takes quite some time during a trek. Towards evening I visit the monastery for Joel's afternoon puja. Compared to the morning ceremony, the one in the evening is taken "lightly" by the monks. Money is split between them, no instruments are used, and instead of sitting in the assembly hall they gather in the glass-covered veranda. To me it still feels like a genuine ceremony, but others not so familiar with it and with a different image of Tibetan Buddhism might be surprised by the informal behaviour of the monks.
From the helipad I watch the setting sun. The sun is actually gone behind ridges already, but its rays manage to lighten up a house and chorten while most of the valley lies in shade already. Even the rock-faces towards Hanumal La are retreating into darkness. What a wonderful play of colours. I feel somewhat sentimental having to leave this beautiful place tomorrow.
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