Will it be the fulfillment of a dream? Or rather a nightmare?

In fact, the mountains in Nepal were also on the Bucking list, but it's only postponed not canceled.

 

From Zurich to Doha

I am heading east, once more towards India, but this time to the north. To Ladakh in the Indian Himalaya.

The weather is sunny and allows a good view on the countries below. I must have dozed off, because the transition from the green meadows and forests to the almost empty desert over Iran somehow took place without me.

Then a short stopover in Doha, as lifeless and artificial as always (the flight ticket shows that I must have been half asleep when I booked it; I am already overcome by a cold shiver, realizing that on the way home I'll have to spend 22 hours at this cold and forbidding place).

 

Flying Shame?

Whenever I fly, I am reminded that a short time ago - half a second ago at the scale of the universe - no human being had even thought of taking to the skies like an eagle and reaching other countries and continents in a matter of hours. We have come far, perhaps too far, considering the threatening effects of our actions on the climate ...

At the time of this trip there was no Flying Shame yet, and Greta Thunberg was a somewhat weird girl in Sweden of whom the world had heard nothing yet.

Everything's different now. And finally we start thinking about whether we can afford what we do every day – ultimately our whole lifestyle – at all.

 

Indira Gandhi International Airport

It's just an airport, a huge new one for about 14 million inhabitants ( it can be a few million more or less, who knows), sterile in its own way, but different from any other airport. Has anything changed since last time, a few years ago? Not much at first glance.

 

From Doha to Delhi

And yet different. Is it the presence of the numerous businessmen, dressed in expensive Armani suits, the typical executive look put on, always in a bit of a hurry, always aware of their own importance? Or is it the absence of Indian smells, of confusion, of colours, of languages? It could be anywhere in the world. The artificiality of this special airport world has also found its way here. Technologically advanced, well-organized, process-optimized.

Cold and sterile. No place to stay, just a transit station.

The images of the hotels, intended to make waiting easier for the well-to-do passenger, look exactly this way. I'd rather sleep on the floor.

Other things have remained the same. I'm almost happy about it.

 

A culture clash

The passport officer still stares at my passport for so long that my feet fall asleep. It still takes a thousand forms with the same questions to be filled in (after all, the question about name/first name/occupation and birthplace of parents and grandparents doesn't seem to matter any more - what a progress!).

The bureaucracy is still bustling, but not as bad as it used to. Nobody knows where all these forms disappear. Are they kept somewhere? Or shredded right away? Are there secret offices somewhere, where the forms are controlled, sorted and stored?

A Kafkaesque system. But India has always been a country where you might lose yourself. Like Josef K. looking for answers in Kafka's famous novel "The Castle".

Other developments are rather surprising. The couple next to me on the plane to Delhi - a Swiss and an Indian with a bun – is greeted by the boy's parents. Wow! So no organized marriage with a shy lady from the same caste, planned for years?

For the Indian parents, this must be a severe shock for their traditional perceptions. Their faces speak of the effort to give a friendly welcome, but also of the disappointment of losing a son (perhaps the only one) to a white girl, a girl full of self-confidence, full of openness. This might be difficult.

For all involved.

 

Heavy backpacks

In the meantime, it has become late, tiredness creeps in. However, it is necessary to survive another 3 hours. In the oversized hall of the Domestic Airport you can meet people with the same destination in mind.

Heavy rucksacks, hiking boots on the feet, thick fleece jackets tied up. One talks, announces mutual objectives and plans, wonders about ideas that differ massively from one's own. Unlike the planned treks to high mountains and passes, my plans are modest. But I don't have any plans yet, at least not concrete ones. Treks are fine, but first I have to reach Leh and master the unusual altitude at 3500 meters. Then we shall see. My doubting face doesn't really fit to the faces of the mountaineers shining with anticipation.

If that's the first taste, at least I'm warned. I guess I have to adjust to the fact that my ideas of this trip do not at all match those of my fellow passengers. Anyway, I'm still looking forward to what's coming.

 

Thick clouds

Local tourists breaking out into small cries of joy at the sight of the mountains. Ladakhis on their way home. Western tourists like me, easily recognizable in fleece jackets and a determined expression on their faces.

 

Delhi-Leh
Delhi - Leh

Unfortunately the visibility is bad, thick clouds hide the view to the mountains, the foothills of the Himalayas. Towards the north, a few threatening looking rocky peaks are sticking out of the clouds, the first signs that things are getting serious.

 

Gloomy terrifying mountain ranges
Gloomy scary mountain ranges
Civilization gets closer
Civilization is approaching
In search of a landing site?
Looking for a landing stripe?
It gets flatter, greener, more fertile
It is flatter, greener, more fertile

 

Mars surface

During the landing approach we stab through a thick grey mass, the plane shakes briefly, and then we glide over the surface of Mars. You can't call it any other way. There seem to be no more colours, only yellow, brown, grey rocks and hills and mountains, long valleys with rivers glistening in the morning sun, and yet, sometimes a green spot, a few houses, a castle, a monastery on a steep hill. Awesome!

And there we are. We get out, take a deep breath after the long journey and notice immediately that it feels differently than usual.

At this altitude (which roughly corresponds to the Jungfraujoch) about one third of the oxygen is missing. This will be fun. As expected, headaches, possibly nausea, insomnia will occur. We will see.

The taxis stand in line, are loaded, drive away, pulling a thick brown dust cloud behind them.

 

The hotel

A pleasant surprise: everything is available, even hot water in the shower. And now it's time to rest, stretch the legs, ignore the headaches that are already starting and ... sleep for a few hours.

The rest of the day is spent in this indefinable grey area between sleeping, reading, dozing, keeping the aching head under cold water, a short walk in the afternoon sun ...

All in all - I have arrived, even if my head doesn't yet seem to accept the thin air. At dinner - very traditional Indian spicy - first contacts. A US-family, cheerful, interested in everything. And once again I ask myself why, when you meet the Americans individually, you immediately take them into your heart, while you find the nation itself quite borderline.

And then black night pours over the world, I lie in bed, listen, hear absolutely nothing, only my own breath, feel the throbbing pulse, and yet somewhere in the distance the lonely howling of a dog, the only sound in the dark night.

 

P.S. Matching Song:  The Mission - Black Mountain Mist

And here the journey continues ...

 

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