Jule!

Yes, I am alive. No Mom, I have not been kidnapped at the Pakistani border, and no Aaron, I have not run away with any Ladakhi men to make Indian babies. To put it mildly, I am in the remote northeast of India, a place that I can only describe as the Himalayan no man's land. Internet and phones are as hard to come by as a plain old grilled cheese, so for now, I will fill your appetites with the juicy lessons I have learned thus far.

1. Chai tea is to Indian's what Coca-cola is to Americans. Only after my 600th glass did I find out that it is 80% whole milk, no wonder is doesn't taste the same at s-bucks (becca, I need to readjust my sbucks order now).

2. A "drive" out of town really means a roller coaster ride in a Scorpio, the Indian version of Land Rover, only half as stable and twice as noisy. Every town in the region lays within a small to medium sized valley, and to get from one to the other, one must cross the great Himalayas... what I have deemed the "road to hell". In other words, the term "off-roading" doesn't exist here because there is no actual roads. Did I mention they are one lanes that go both ways?

3. You have never drank until you have downed a bottle of Black Label Whisky in a nomads yak wool tent with his entire family, and a herd of 200 sheep, in the middle of the desert. That pretty much sums it up, although I must say, a baby Himalayan sheep is the new Yorkie.

4. The Ladakhi region is very similar to what one might imagine Tibet to be. It borders China and Pakistan, and contains mostly Buddhist Ladakhis who are the opposite of Indian's from Delhi or Bombay. They are sweet, kind, and will barely stand near me. On the other hand, Indian men need to be put in their place. Thus far I have have 3 feminist arguments, and seriously wonder if they know we live in the year 2008. Don't worry though, I am on the job. Baby steps.

5. In a small village of no more than 30 people called Ni, I visited an Amchi or medicine man. He explained to me that nutmeg heals heart problems as he waved a rabbits foot above my head. Sunny, get on that.

6. My wake up everyday has been around 4 am. At that time, I get dressed in my chilly but comfortable tent, called a Yurdu, sip some chai, eat some scrambled eggs with toast (the only comfort from home I thankfully have!), and get in the car. Of course, my crew believes this is the best time for Techno music. I tried to explain that it just isn't appropriate, and yet every morning at 5 am, I am stuck in a new-age rave.... sweeeeeeet.

7. My Ladakhi driver, who I have deemed Jason Bourne, is probably the closest friend I have made thus far. He is 40 years old, adorable, and looking for love. If anyone is interested please let me know.

8. After a quick shop in the local market, we were invited to a local villagers home for a traditional Ladakhi meal. She then requested that I cook with her, as in India women do most of the cooking (Aaron dont get any ideas). Considering my American cooking skills are pretty shabby, I thought I'd give Ladakhi a try. I did everything except burn this poor woman's home down. For someone so capable, I just can't wrap my head around cooking. I did have the pleasure of tasting Yak cheese (a yak is like a cow and sheep combined), which is the first cheese I can honestly say even my family wouldn't eat.

9. Upon arriving in another tiny village, about 8 hours north of any real civilization, near the border of Pakistan, I met two villagers who brought me to their home. 4 Ladakhi women proceeded to pet me, dress me, and force me to drink barley beer. This brought styling to a whole new level. Don't be jealous Austy, I clearly got a wool gown of Yak fur for you to bring to Michigan.

10. There is a large difference between 16,000 feet and 18,000 feet. Upon arriving in Leh, one must spend at least a day or so acclimatizing. In such high altitudes as this, you breathe almost 50% less oxygen, which makes a 4 step walk, an endeavour. On our first day on the "road to hell", we passed Khardung-La, which until recently was the highest motorable road in the world. This spectacular setting of glaciers, snow-capped peaks and waving Prayer flags requires a serious climb up icy rocks to reach the highest point at around 18,700 feet. This experience ended with my first case of Altitude sickness. Think of a hangover mixed with a cold, and you will have some idea of just how excruciating it is. However, in the end, after I recovered, I would say it was a moment of true exhilaration and sheer beauty.


On a more serious note, Leh, the main village of Ladakh where we are stationed, is beautiful. Set in a valley, surrounded by desert and snowcapped peaks, Leh is picture perfect. The weather here can fluctuate 30 degrees in one day, which makes packing light and staying healthy slightly difficult. I have experienced sun-burn, wind-burn and today, as rain transformed into snow, some frost bite. I have eaten some delicious meals, such as egg curry which may replace Tamago as a favorite, and some awful ones, such as barley soup. I have showered in the freezing rain water, and showered in some boiling tubs overlooking the valley. I have hung with nomads and played with their children for hours, and I have been shoved around at the Hemis festival by natives who don't want an American girl at their special event. This is the duality of Ladakh; the good and bad, the beautiful and tragic, the inspiring and disappointing. Our filming is a process, as we are 6 strangers getting to know Ladakh as well as each other. It has been a challenge being the only girl; shocking I know, as it is a pretty standard situation for me, but in Indian culture there are many ways in which I am not viewed as equal, and clearly I have not problem expressing my issues with that. Under the surface of Ladakh is a brilliant history and tradition that I am beginning to understand. Our production is on schedule, and ironically I am the one making sure we are running a tight ship. The Himalayas are no place to mess around. It is an ominous, sharp, wild place. Let the Himalayan safari continue....

Until next time, over and out

Love,
Farryn
otherwise known as Dolma, a Ladakhi name given to me by a Buddhist monk. It means "star of the sky".....