The Upper Mustang Valley & the Tiji Festival

If you can visit the Mustang Valley, do.  If you can go to the Tiji Festival, again, do.  I have just had a wonderful time exploring this amazing landscape and rich culture.  This has been one of the best trips I have ever done and I would love to come back.

The Mustang Valley has a lower end and upper end and we were going to Lo Mantang, in the Upper Mustang Valley. The erosion was incredible, carving beautiful shapes into the cliffs.  Some places looked like the rock had melted.  Little did I know, it was going to get better and better.  At Ghami La pass, one of the higher points in the trip, we climbed a hill (easy! Lungs and legs are going VERY well) to get amazing 360 degrees views.  Snow capped mountains and beautiful arid, enormous hills, plummeting down to the wide river bed.

We turned right to Yara, along a sandy, dusty track that had Davindra, our driver, quite concerned in parts.  The place we are staying is a local hotel and is a little bit more primitive, with one squat toilet (blocked) and very hard beds (which I'm really enjoying).  After lunch, we drove along an appalling road to Tashi Kabum, an 800 year old chorten.  After climbing the obligatory steps (breathe Anthea, breathe), I entered the place where a stupa/chorten is inside a cave.  The walls and ceiling are covered with beautiful paintings.  I walked around the stupa 3 times and then bowed (I had instructions from the nun there) so I am blessed.  Again. 

Back to the guesthouse for a kettle of Mustang coffee – this stuff is pretty lethal.  Much more and I would be dancing on tables.  I even played with a baby … and I don’t like babies!  After dinner tonight, we were entertained by a dance and song demonstration put on by the Mothers Club.  They turned up at 7:30pm.  What a treat.  This was no slick, rehearsed and choreographed performance.  Instead, about 10 women sang local songs and danced for us.  They invited us to join them and we made a poor showing of the pattern of foot kicks and shuffles.  Everything was understated – I guess violent movement in dance isn’t really suited to altitude.  After a few songs, all of a sudden it was our turn.  What to do?  So “kookaburra sits in an old gum tree”, then “give me a home among the gum trees” with movements of course.  Finally, Tsering suggested “Heads and shoulders” which the women thought was hilarious.  It was a very special occasion.  We put money onto their plate and away they went with lots of thank yous, “tu ji che” and “danye baht”.

When I look back on my photos, they are a disappointing representation of the majesty of this landscape.  I know that Kath would describe it as desolate … and it is.  However, it has a cruel, harsh beauty like nowhere else I have seen.  The people here are mainly of Tibetan descent so I have learned new words for hello and thank you.  Today I asked Tsering why, when there were so many goats, we had never seen goat on the menu.  He said that the people didn’t like killing things.  So the chickens, cows, goats and any other animals are safe.  Except for a yak or two – evidently they are fair game.

The next morning, I shopped.  I didn’t want to shop but I’d taken a photo of a lady who was stomping roasted barley (I’d stomped a bit to help her - afterall, my feet were so much bigger than hers) so I was obliged.  A bracelet later and we were on our way.  The eroded cliffs around here are fantastic!  Even more amazing are the caves in the vertical columns.

We reached the village of Tsarang where there is a beautiful monastery.  We walked there and entered it – to find that they were painting the walls.  Huge vats of red liquid were being stirred – ground up red dirt evidently – which we saw later were poured over the walls with kettles.  We went inside the temple to find the monks were reciting and praying.  We sat down and listened – I do find this very calming.  Then they offered a drink.  I said no for a start but then thought that was rude and said yes.  Big mistake.  It was Tibetan tea … tea, salt and rancid butter.  Oh no!  I struggled with drinking half of it and then thought “no”, got up and left.  I hid my undrunk tea outside … sorry.  Some little baby monk will find it and enjoy it more than me!

Lo Mantang

In Lo Mantang, we are staying at Tashi’s hotel.  We unpacked, had lunch and then set off to the Tiji  festival.  We walked in with Tashi and he directed us to sit down in front of some people.  Well, a ‘lady’ jumped up and started abusing Tashi and Tsering, saying that she was a tour operator and that they had got there early so get out of their space.  Tashi tried to explain that he was a local and then a big hulking rude man came up and shouted at us to go away.  Then they both pushed Tashi and Tsering!!!!!!  I couldn’t believe it!  It’s not their festival.  So what if they’d paid money.  I couldn’t believe they actually pushed Nepalese people.  So Tashi asked permission for us to go up on the roof of the monastery and we ended up having a better view than those rude people.

The king and queen of Mustang

Yak on the roof

While I’m on the topic of rude people, one man went and sat on the stage where the monks were meant to sit.  I don’t understand why people feel this entitled.

Arsehole!

Behind the stage, was a huge Thanka of Guru Rinpoche, which was 1000 years old.  Then a row of monks who were responsible for the cymbols and a big drum.  In front of them were a group of baby monks as well as some trumpeters – the trumpets/horns were about 3 metres long and had a deep mournful sound.  Once everyone was in place, eleven dancers came in, ten in the outer circle and one in the second circle.  The cymbols, murmured, the horns gave a slow three step rhythm and the drum beat the time.  And the dancers (all monks) started a rather graceful pavanne.  They were dressed in very old robes and swung their large sleeves, had beautifully choreographed foot movements and were telling stories and prayers.

The next day, we set off for Chhoser Cave but had a small diversion.  Up the top of a hill was an old, old castle – all ruins and broken walls.  So, boys being boys, Tsering and Davindra decided to drive part way up.  Steep but doable in 4WD.  We parked and admired the view of mountains, villages and eroded hills and then we set off to walk the steep path up the hill.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Breathe.  Made it!  We were at 4089 metres and the views were incredible.  What was also amazing was the resilience of 78 year old Hannes and 74 year old Sigrid.  I hope I’m as fit and active as them when I get to their age.

Wildlife!!!!

A quick descent … really? It was only that far? … and back in the jeeps on the way to the caves.  Chhoser Caves are amazing.  They rise up through the cliff, dwelling upon dwelling, with windows and what looked to be firepits in the different rooms.  You explored the caves by climbing steep ladders from floor to floor.  Unfortunately the monastery was closed and we came back to Lo Mantang to have lunch before going to the festival.  Today was busier than yesterday, with quite a few people joining us on the roof.  The dances began, with the dancers wearing animal masks.  Usually just two or three dancers, accompanied by the horns and drums.  The dances told the story of the defeat of the bad demon and when a particularly good dance move was done, the people whistled and screamed, especially the group of Year 10 girls standing with me.  It was great and we stayed until the end.

It was a very early start this morning … 5:30am!  We were off to see the yaks and the nomads, and hopefully seeing the yaks being milked.  Personally, I’m not that keen on yaks (nasty, aggressive animals) but Jan and Carolyn had never seen them before and I had never seen them being milked.  After driving half an hour and going to 4300 metres, we came upon the nomad settlement (if that word can be used when describing nomads), where there were some tents and goats and a hillside dotted with yaks.  No milking today.  But there were calves and some lovely scenery.

Back for breakfast and then Tashi and Tsering took Carolyn, Jan and me to walk to the hot springs.  And that has been where my day became undone.  We got there and I started getting a terrible headache.  And it grew and grew.  So the walk home was a tiny bit of hell and I took painkillers and missed lunch and have spent the afternoon in bed.  I’ve missed the last day of the festival and am feeling rather sorry for myself.  Not enough water is probably the cause.  Bummer!

I was quite sorry to leave Lo Mantang the next day.  There is more to see and do here ... so I guess I will just have to return.  Afterall, I need to see the third day of the festival (still annoyed about that!).  Draped in khata, the white scarves that are given on departure, we drove for a few kilometres and went to Ghar Gumba, otherwise known as Lo Gekar, a very old monastery.  In fact it is the oldest Buddhist monastery in the world – older even than those in Tibet.  Scattered around the temple were red painted chortens that were quite unusual in shape.  We walked into the temple and it was quite overwhelming.  So old and beautiful, paintings around the walls of the different faces of Buddha.  These were painted on rocks, set inside a painted wooden frame.  We went inside the central temple and I hung my khata near the statue of Guru Rinpoche.  I was glad not to take photos - it was such a precious and sacred place.  And we left Tsering inside doing some prayers and meditation.  Back in the jeeps and over the pass 4225 metres and then drove to Drakmar where the red cliffs were stained with the blood of the demon killed by Guru Rinpoche.

Mrs Tashi

Lunch was at Zaite and it was here that we said goodbye to Tashi.  Jeromee and I sang a song (badly) and Claude said a few words and Sigrid handed over 12000 rupees with a little speech.  Tashi has been a wonderful guide in Upper Mustang and we were all sad to see him go.