Gigi in Shangrila

I have been to Shangrila.

I can tell you how to travel to a place on earth that is just about as ‘Shangrila’ as you can get.  It is not a simple journey, but it is worth every second. 

To find my ‘Shangrila’, you must jump on a plane and travel to Laddakh.  “Where’s that?” I hear you say.  This exquisite landlocked country is north of India and really is a little piece of heaven. 

You know you are going somewhere special as you fly across the mind blowing Himalayas and see the hundreds of snow capped peaks disappearing under the belly of the plane.  And when you reach the sky above Leh, the capital, it is a good idea to say a quick prayer or two as the plane cork screws down into the valley towards the airport. 

Then, you step out into altitude and the thin air hits you like a ton of bricks.  Your rapidly beating heart and those gasps for air are a bit unnerving for the uninitiated, but eventually your body settles down.  

We have made big progress towards reaching our destination of ‘Shangrila’ but we are not there yet.  Oh no, we have a way quite a way to go.  We must first acclimatise in Leh so we take in the sites of this bustling city spectacularly surrounded by soaring mountain ranges.   We venture into the streets visiting the interesting shops, tourist markets and also take a few of those essential acclimatisation walks up and down the nearby “hills” to small picturesque monasteries.


We take a drive in a convoy of jeeps to reach the highest pass in the world.  This utterly perilous road is narrow, bumpy, steep, windy and gouged out of rock and snow.  You sincerely believe if you make it up and down this mountain in one piece you are pretty much indestructible!!!! 

We drive out to the countryside to visit the local monasteries and already I am in a world beyond wild imaginings.  These monasteries have been sitting in these panoramic surroundings for thousands of years.  The gentle sound of chanting monks soothes our souls as we enter the serene and colourful interiors of the monasteries. You think you are in paradise, you are in paradise!

Acclimatisation completed, we gear up and head off on our adventure – on the road to ‘Shangrila’.  A bus ride through unbelievable scenery rejuvenates and readies us for what lies ahead.

I am not what you would call a ‘happy camper’ but when you come to these far flung destinations, this is about the only way to immerse yourself and so I don’t complain – I just do it.   And the way we go, it is a little bit ‘5-star’.  They carry the tents, erect them and cook the food so it is about as good as you can get! 

The first campsite is always problematic as you are getting used to the whole tenting experience.  “Where’s the toilet? What? That?”  And of course, getting accustomed to undressing inside a small two man tent and then scrambling into a sleeping bag is more than difficult and uncomfortable.  None of this inconvenience is noticed on the evening of day two though, when good old exhaustion has kicked in.  So long as you can drag yourself through the tent’s zippered opening and get onto your sleeping bag you have pretty well near perfected the easiest way to deal with camping.   You need to completely put aside cleanliness, tidiness and comfort to appreciate that ‘where you are’ is ‘the’ most important factor and nothing else matters.

Day one of the trek is thrilling. It is a very long day but the sun is brilliant and the scenery is breathtaking.  Unfortunately, because of a collapsed bridge due to recent heavy rains, we have to take a very long detour. We have stinging blisters on our feet, sunburnt arms and faces and we are thoroughly worn out.  But as we walk we thankfully become oblivious to these things.

We are walking in heaven – it is purity itself.
Towering mountains watch over us while we see “bliss” and breathe what must be the freshest air anywhere in the world.  How could discomfort and fatigue possibly cripple our enjoyment of this wonderland! 

However, the campsite is a welcome sight and we head straight to the nearby river.  There, we straddle boulders and dip our heads and soak our long suffering feet into the freezing water. 

Day two sees us trekking through quite a barren but imposing landscape. We are feeling on top of the world and probably pretty close to it.  After a day of astonishing scenery and perilous walking tracks, we notice signs that we are reaching our next village. 

But today feels different.  Today everything looks different. 

Today is the day that we enter this world of my ‘Shangrila’. As we walk down the path between the stark towering mountains, away down the end of the valley we spot the next village.  The first indication is the mass of green trees and emerald green grass.  As we come closer, masses of pink rose bushes and fields of yellow flowered crops fill stoned walls.  

You can’t help but be overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the tapestry of colour in this wonderful oasis.   

The crowing glory is the old monastery perched on a steep hill in the middle of town.   Babbling creeks wind their way through paddocks and the round small village houses. Families dressed in traditional clothing sit in the shade of the trees sewing, chatting or washing their clothes. It is so peaceful, pure, so untouched, and so utterly beautiful.  It is truly kept secret by the towering snow capped mountains which surround the valley and the sheer distance from anywhere.  It is ‘Shangrila’.

After our tent is pitched in a stone walled garden, and Mr G and I set out to explore. We need to absorb as much as we can.  Down pathways we roam, passing by paddocks filled with grazing animals, peeping into small rough built houses, listening to the braying of the donkeys. 

It’s hard to explain just how this little hamlet unfolds itself to you. 

Along the way we meet a young woman.  She is with her cousin and tending to her ‘cows’ in a lush tranquil spot by the rushing creek.  She speaks a little English and somehow she invites us to her parent’s house for a cup of tea.  She is exited as she hurries down pathways ahead of us towards her home.  We pass by the family animals tethered inside the old rickety timber fence and are ushered upstairs to a large room surrounded by full length glass windows.   

I sit on a cushion on the floor and contemplate my presence. 

Out of the windows, the mountains loom.  I imagine this little village deep under snow during the winter months.  How magical it would look then.  Our tea is brought to us with much ceremony.  She tells us we are so lucky to live in Australia and she is keen to continue her education and improve her situation.  We tell her that she is the lucky one with the dream life in a magical world.  After a fragment of time, we reluctantly say goodbye to our friend and return to our camp.  We sleep peacefully. 
 

In the clear, sunny morning we climb up to the monastery. 


Here, the views and vibrations of wonder radiating out of this spot are beyond words. 

We drink in the visions and try to transfix this moment into the centre of our soul.  We stand in awe.

Then, oh so far too quickly, it is time to leave. 

How do you keep shining every feeling, every moment, every vista! 

How do you say goodbye to a place that it oozes a magical quality beyond any other – a place where you know you are unlikely to physically go again. 

As I write about this snapshot of paradise, it is a thrill to know that at this very moment, the little village continues to pulsate, its vital glow radiating out, away, away, in its hidden valley.    
 
I am so happy to have walked the road to my ‘Shangrila’.  I have felt the power of enchantment and I visit there frequently in my quiet moments.