This is about our second day in Ladakh, which we spent in its capital city of Leh--the first day involved mostly sleeping and moaning of headache and general being unwell.
In fact, no matter what state you're in, you're not supposed to budge for 24 hours after landing at such an altitude.
The next day, we were sufficiently recovered to see my first Tibetan temple--a 20th-century monument attended by some very colorful old folks (and less traditionally dressed young folks) turning prayer wheels in their hands; you can either carry one with you or turn the stationary ones in the temple, always clockwise, to have your prayers heard. The decor, as is in most modern Buddhist temples in Ladakh, was bright and colorful, cheerful though not of the highest artistic merit.
For the rest of the day, we climbed up to the 16th-century Leh palace of its now-deposed royal family. This is a mud-brick building in the traditional Tibetan architectural style, which looks oddly like 1970s housing projects, but goes well with the rocky landscapes it's built into. Inside were several chapels, housing Buddhas, their various emanations, and also the frightening animal masks for the shamanistic images that blend into the Buddhist practice here. And the pathways leading through the buildings were burrowing, narrow and medieval--and took us to a cafe where we sat on rugs and drank seabuckthorn juice (seabuckthorn and apricot are two kinds of fruit that grow well in this high-altitude climate).
Before climbing even higher for a thrilling view of the city punctuated by the ubiquitous fluttering multicolored prayer flags, we attended a performance of traditional folk dances. We were struck by how un-Indian the music was, reminding us of some Kirghiz or Kazakh tunes we had heard on good old Soviet television. The Silk Route that passed through these parts definitely had its effect in tying Ladakh firmly to Central Asia.
What struck us most about the dancing, besides the infectious good cheer of the performers, were their colorful outfits, which people here apparently still wear for festivals--the tall turquoise-encrusted headdresses on the women and the no less fanciful get-up of the men--one of the dances involved the latter balancing goblets on their heads.
After admiring them, I did the cliched white foreigner thing, joined in myself, and was handed a Ladakhi hat for further authenticity.
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