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IN THIS ISSUE

• Richard Ross describes his adventures in Kashmir
• Zvonko Springer starts the day off with some smiles
• Gerrit de Leuuw recycles an old joke
• Kate Brookfield forwards some odd ideas about Canada
• Don Henderson sends a story with a moral
• Marilyn Magid´s story shows why one should think before one speaks
• Websites are suggested by Rafiki, Tom Telfer, and Tom Williamson

Richard Ross writes about Kashmir in his

INDIAN CHRONICLES

As I briefly mentioned, with the surging influx of foreign visitors and Ladakh´s commitment to accommodate every Tom, Dick, and Harry, the locals surely have an acute awareness of the modern world. Materialism leaks out of the travel suitcases and sticks to the daily lives of the locals. All around Leh, Buddhist monks, swathed head to toe in homespun robes, blab away on their cell phones. Young boys mobilize their gun-toting Rambos into battle, while the girls braid Barbie´s blond hair. In school, English is the medium and the local Ladakhi language is only one subject. An educated mind might assume that an Himalayan community,10,000 feet in the sky, with few resources and an extreme climate, would be protected from the swelling effects of globalization. However, the reality is quite different. Jeopardizing a thousand years of frugality, ecological balance and social harmony, Leh has emerged as an overnight globalized sensation.

Not all is lost in Ladakh. From the very beginning, Ladakhis and the Earth joined hands in a spectacular co-evolution that still amazes the outsider. Even more remarkable is the human and animal relationship. Cows, goats, donkeys, and dogs all play a role in the friendly environment. So much so that Leh´s claustrophobic presence of farm animals could easily be mistaken for a sprawling petting zoo without fences. During the coldest months, when all the tourists have scattered, the animals are granted their turn to reap the kind treatment of the locals. If you are a shivering, seasonally-depressed mammal, bird, or even a straggling reptile, the Ladakhis welcome you into their houses. First floors are both four-legged friendly and comfortably heated. A wrinkly old man with emerald eyes gleefully explained to me that as long as the animals yield the goods and labour during the harvest season, winter room and board will always be available.

When I descended into Leh, I soon discovered that it is not only breath-takingly beautiful but literally breath-taking. None of the ski getaways to Mt. Sunapee, my four marathon finishes, nor the many Dave Mathews´ concert tailgates I enjoyed in my unruly youth had prepared me for how high and out-of-breath I was during my first few hours teetering at the topmost peaks of the planet. My first day was spent with winded nausea and a pulsing headache. But after a hard day´s rest, I acclimatized, and in no time, the air thickened and my stride quickened and my adventure was poised to reach even greater heights!

My first day´s uplifting was distinctively spiritual. Having just arrived, I was confident my exotic tales of middle-class America and my shiny Ray Ban sunglasses would without question galvanize the local folk and make me an instant celebrity. I´m sure this would have been the case had the successor to the Dali Lama not been staying in the house next to me.

Setting aside my jealousy, I joined the many Ladakhis in line (and I mean the few hundred) and awaited my turn to meet the Karmapa. The Karmapa, who by birth heads one of the four major schools of Tibetan Buddhism, fled Tibet at a young age to study under the Dalai Lama. Due to the fear that the Chinese government will choose the next Dalai Lama, many Tibetan Buddhists have rallied around this young man as their future spiritual leader.

When it was my turn, the Karmapa, appearing no older than me, immediately sensed my inexperience in the formalities of a Buddhist greeting. When I clumsily forwent the customary bow for an insipid handshake, he soothed his insulted body guard, whispering in English,"It´s okay," and cheerfully shook my hand.

The first half of the week I spent browsing the shops, day hiking up and around the outskirts of Leh, and dining at the same cheerful restaurant, Summer Harvest, energized by the cacophonous clatter of six different languages spoken simultaneously. The local cuisine consisted of two basic staples, momos and mutton, and more often than not, I colored within the lines and ordered a tasty little combination of the two known as a mutton momo. At every restaurant in Ladakh (and I am now noticing it more in Delhi), is you´re Western, you meet the ketchup assumption. Regardless of what you order - chow mien or a hot fudge sundae - if you´re white, your food should be red. Someone like me, who has always approached ketchup with enthusiasm and an open mind, only reinforces the Indian idea that all Americans are foaming at the mouth for more ketchup.

The next thing more dangerous than driving in the jostling traffic of Delhi is careening over the ice and snow-ridden overpasses 17,000 feet into the Himalayas. What´s even more frightening? Some government official is convinced that the safety of mountainous driving lies more in the wittiness of the warning signs than the presence of guard rails. As if a local kindergarten class headed the project, drippy paint on rotting wood reads: "Speed thrills but kills", or "Don´t get risky with whiskey."

The magnitude of danger rises exponentially when the driver of the car is either too ill-equipped or too much of a brash individualist to combat the slippery roads with the proper chain apparatus. Like the toddler who forgets his ice skates but still has his stick, we fought for traction. After two long days of driving to the threshold of the solar system and back down, I will readily attest to the peril.

In our two attempts to reach Lake Pangong, we trucked through whiteouts, sanded frozen surfaces, and shovelled out of snow banks. On a few occasions, the Grim Reaper himself almost had his way with us, but we were in too much of a hurry to even bother to stop for tea, let alone lengthier time-consuming interruptions like death.

Nine hours or so later, we were afforded our first peek. Between two symmetrical mountains, the lake revealed its placid existence. Closer, the multihued and florescent water transiently glistened, while the brisk wind layered ripples to prove that the lake was not frozen. The water´s edge expanded 85 miles east, passing beyond the Tibetan (Chinese) border.

With both feet in an India that until now had only stripped me bare of privacy and personal space, I found myself standing in the shadow of another greatly overpopulated civilization - but somehow, there seemed not to be the faintest murmur of human life. I was sandwiched between 1/3 of the world´s entire population, but yet in my whole life I had never felt more alone with the planet.

The cold breeze and the imminent nightfall pressured us to continue on, but as I stood dwarfed by the surrounding mountains and squint- eyed from the fleeting fusion of navy, light and baby blue, I imagined how pleasurable Earth´s inevitable inhabitation could be. I took a few last photos, snapped out of my sappy awe, and revisited the snug back seat for what would transpire as a blockbuster sequel in Himalayan snow escapades.

The wintry bliss reached its end abruptly, obliging me to bid farewell to the simple and soulful authenticity of the Ladakhi people. Granted, I have not yet shaken all the palm trees nor traversed all the mountainsides, but I´m still certain I experienced one of the few remaining life styles that actually pulsates the way it is supposed to: a value system truly remarkable, where work and leisure are not differentiated, and one single wedding may last for weeks. Leading by real example, the Ladakhis´ quaint and quiet nature reminds the industrial world how simple a formula happiness really is.

When I landed back in Delhi, passing through the sliding doors of the airport, I was at once thrown back into the sensual tailspin of smog, dust, and flesh. Still in a Buddhist state of mind, I was not ready; I still trusted the human heart. I hadn´t had a debacle du jour in the last eight days and I almost had forgotten what one was. But in typical fashion, the Indian capital delivered, and once again I was waist-deep in a debacle.

In my fog of optimism, I accepted the first offer of a taxi, but like the swimmer who trusts the rising tide, I was soaked in consequence. Once I had followed the tatty swindler into his rusting sedan, he slammed the doors shut and waving his dull pencil as a substitute for a switchblade, demanded his handsome payment upfront. At the mercy of a first-rate maniac, with his rage snowballing by the second, I stoically accepted his preposterous request.

As life would have it, I spent my first morning locked inside the corroding back seat of an illegitimate taxi service, while the enchantment and fresh air I was desperately holding on to evaporated into the sweltering atmosphere.

ED. NOTE: Again, for pictures of places mentioned in this instalment, see the online editions at http://members.shaw.ca/vjsansum/or http://nw-seniors.org/stories.html

Zvonko Springer forwards these

STORIES TO START YOUR DAY

Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside with only a pet dog for company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and said, "Father, my dog is dead. Could ya´ be sayin´ a mass for the poor creature?"

Father Patrick replied, "I´m afraid not; we cannot have services for an animal in the church. But there are some Baptists down the lane, and there´s no tellin´ what they believe. Maybe they´ll do something for the creature."

Muldoon said, "I´ll go right away Father. Do ya´ think $5,000 is enough to donate to them for the service?"

Father Patrick exclaimed, "Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus! Why didn´t ya tell me the dog was Catholic?

An elderly man goes into a brothel and tells the madam he would like a young girl for the night. Surprised, she looks at the ancient man and asks how old he is.

"I´m 90 years old," he says.

"Ninety!" replies the woman. "Don´t you realize you´ve had it?"

"Oh, sorry," says the old man. "How much do I owe you?"

An elderly man went to his doctor and said, "Doc, I think I´m getting senile. Several times lately, I have forgotten to zip up."

"That´s not senility," replied the doctor. "Senility is when you forget to zip down."

Gerrit de Leeuw sends this Australian version of an old joke:

QUEENSLAND JACKAROO

A Queensland jackeroo is overseeing his herd in remote territory when suddenly a brand-new BMW advances out of a dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a designer suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the cowboy, "If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, will you give me a calf?"

The jackaroo looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, why not?"

The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his Cingular RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite navigation system to get an exact fix on his location, which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high- resolution photo. The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg, Germany.

Within seconds, he receives an e-mail on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS- SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel Spreadsheet with e-mail on his Blackberry and after a few minutes, receives a response. Finally, he prints out a full-colour, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer and finally turns to the cowboy and says, "You have exactly 1,586 cows and calves."

"That´s right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves," says the cowboy.

He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on amused as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.

Then the cowboy says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my calf?"

The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"

"You work for the Australian Government," says the jackeroo.

"Wow! That´s correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"

"No guessing required," answered the jackeroo. "You showed up here even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked. You used all kinds of expensive equipment that clearly somebody else paid for. You tried to show me how much smarter than me you are; and you don´t know a thing about cows ... this is a herd of sheep. Now give me back my dog."

Kate Brookfield forwards this story from a very old newspaper:

CANADIAN STUDIES

"I am not sure how many provinces there are in the altogether part of Canada, but trying to find out is one of my constant doings."

Not all Bob Williams´ nine-year-old pupils have been as baffled by Canada as the one who wrote the above quote. Indeed, many of them have had some very clear ideas as to what an extraordinary country lies to their north. Over a 21-year career of teaching school in St. Louis, Missouri, Williams, whose subjects include Canadian studies, has been collecting some of the more memorable ideas expressed in his students´ essays. So, in the eyes of Grade 4 Missouri, here we are...

On Canadian History:

- Compared with Lake Winnipeg, people have been living in Canada for only a drop in the bucket.

- John Cabot discovered Labrador in 1497, but I forget whether this was in A.C. or D.C. times.

- Early settlers had many exciting times discovering strange places like Ottawa. What made it so strange to them was they had never seen things like tall buildings before.

- The Canadian Pacific Railway was completed in 1885. This was really in the 19th century, but for some reason, time travels faster than dates.

- The coming of the railroad made it possible for people to get around more hurridly in their leisure.

- Once upon a time it happened that some people came to this spot on the map of Canada called Toronto. Pretty soon some more people came and the spot grew bigger and bigger. And then bigger and bigger and bigger. And that is about the size of it up to this morning.

On Canadian Resources:

- The natural wealth of Canada is worth more than a necked eye.

- Canada is filled with the Great Outdoors. One of their main products is Utopia.

- Canada has many imports. One of its best of all imports is tourists.

- Many people like to spend their weekends at their national parks with other transplanted Citians.

- Question: What is the soundest reason for the rapid growth of Canada´s resort areas? Answer: The sound of everybody shouting YIPPEE!

- In the total country of Canada, as a mattery fact, are found such things as trees, copper, fish, coal and oil. Keeping all this stuff separated is one of the main jobs of Canadonians.

- There are many animals peculiar to Canada. Just for one, it would be peculiar to see a kangaroo there.

- Canadian chickens are famous for their fatness, they not being just skinny bones.

- While most cows can only give milk, some Canadian cows have been taught how to give dairy products.

- The difference between lakes and rivers is that rivers are always in a hurry to get somewhere else.

- Their water scientists have figured out how to change their river current into electric current.

- They call their falling water a natural resource. Here, we call it rain.

- The number of trees in Canada is more for saying than believing.

- Their forests are found mostly in woodsy places.

- Much of Canada´s lumber supply is used in the making of forests.

- I have always wanted to work in a lumbering camp but not very much.

- Canada not only has a lot of timber but also a lot of oil so it is about six of one and one for all.

- Oil is the most valuable thing on which the hand of man has ever set foot.

- It takes more than just peeling an eye to find oil.

- Oil is for lubricating with when it is not for zooming with.

- Oil knows how to swim. It does it the being lighter than water way.

- Past monsters had the choice of being either oil or extinct.

- Industry is a many-purposed word Canadians use for many making-types.

- Nova Scotia has few industries. Their main product is history.

Don Henderson forwards this oldie but goodie:

A BOTTLE OF WINE

A woman and a man are involved in a car accident on a snowy, cold Monday morning; it´s a bad one. Both of their cars are totally demolished, but amazingly, neither of them is hurt. After they crawl out of their cars, the man is yelling about women drivers. The woman says, "So, you´re a man. That´s interesting. I´m a woman. Wow, just look at our cars! There´s nothing left, but we´re unhurt. This must be a sign from God that we should be friends and live in peace for the rest of our days."

Flattered, the man replies, "Oh yes, I agree completely, this must be a sign from God! But you´re still at fault ... women shouldn´t be allowed to drive."

The woman continues, "And look at this - here´s another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn´t break. Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune."

She hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman.

The woman takes the bottle, puts the cap back on and hands it back to the man.

The man asks, "Aren´t you having any?"

The woman replies, "No. I think I´ll just wait for the police...."

MORAL OF THE STORY: Women are clever, evil people. Don´t mess with them.

RECOMMENDED WEBSITES

Rafiki recommends this site for a lovely walk through rainbows of Fall:

http://home.att.net/~hideaway_today/t083/fall.htm

Tom Telfer sends this site for devotees of old westerns and country music:

http://oldfortyfives.com/thoseoldwesterns.htm

In the same nostalgic mood, Tom Williamson suggests

http://moreoldfortyfives.com/TakeMeBackToTheSixties.htm