La La Ladakh

Author's note: there are no photos loaded to illustrate this post because of Ladakh's woeful lack of internet capacity. See point 3 of this article. Sorry about that.

Simon: What are you going to write about Ladakh?

Me: I just can’t get my head round this place.

The reason I can’t work out my reaction to Ladakh, and its main city Leh, is because of its weird juxtapositions.

Peace and war

Ladakh is where the nuclear-armed forces of India, Pakistan and China stare each other down over a disputed border. The uneasy truce often descends into stone throwing, armed incursions and threats of annihilation. 

Ladakh also rejoices in a long uninterrupted culture of Tibetan Buddhism - its monasteries have remained peaceful and powerful in rural communities; Ladakhis enjoy a constant everyday religious practice.,

Result? The peaks around Leh and surrounding valleys are all occupied by ancient monasteries; and the flat land is all armed forces barracks and armaments poised to start World War 3.

Weird: Each brigade (The Ladakhi Scouts, the Fighting Furies, the Tuskers, the Punjabi Panthers) headquarters’ entrance is adorned by Buddhist statues and religious decorations.

Dust and flowers

My first impressions of Ladakh: brown dust and brown rocks; overwhelmingly barren mountain sides; lifeless serrated peaks against blue sky. 

How could anyone live in this desert? 

Even the children’s playground out by the army base is a bare stoney expanse with forlorn see-saws and swing sets surrounded by rings of painted rocks to cheer the place up. 

But Ladakhis also love their flower gardens - old fashioned cottage garden varieties such as dahlias, stocks, snapdragons, zinnias, hollyhocks and sunflowers run riot outside every cottage and guesthouse. Geranium pots and marigolds flourish. Precious water is lavished on living summer flowers.

Weird but lovely: Every kitchen garden or verge or verandah, whether it’s in an otherwise barren valley or alongside a dusty construction site or a vital barley field, vibrates with tiny oases of colour.

Water or wifi?

First question on entering any cafe, or guesthouse: Do you have wifi? Inevitable response from staff: Yes. But not now, try later.

Ladakh is cursed by unreliable electricity and an even spottier internet connection that relies on one pylon crossing the mountains from Srinagar. From January to May 2017, there was no internet connection to Ladakh.

Ladakh is also very short of water. Even though the mighty Indus River flows through it; even though Leh is blessed with charming little watercourses that gurgle alongside footpaths through the entire city, this is a very very dry and dusty region.

Which would you prioritise: water or wifi? Hiking over a dusty drought-stricken pass, I saw a series of excavations with blue pipes running through the bottom of each hole, just waiting for some kind of final connection to become viable. 

I asked my guide: Water pipe installation? 

Her reply: No! Internet!!

Ladakh has picked wifi over water. 

Weird.