Gustor festival each year on the 28th and 29th days of the 11th month of the Tibetan calendar . Something had aligned and we were now being invited to attend .
Overlooking the Zanskar river valley , the ride to reach the Stongdey monastery had been spectacular , not challenging , just a visual overload with mountains towering above , the ride up the single lane a glimpse into the challenges faced by the faithful each day .
“ Namaste , namaste , welcome , welcome ,” the warmth emanating from all around was overwhelming , I had doubts that this would occur in the western world , and even that of a church group . Yet the people of the Stongdey faithful not only welcomed but felt a need to want us amongst their special day .
“ Chai ? Cookie ?”, we graciously accepted the offering only to be embarrassed when we asked how much we should pay . “ No , please , our gift to you , travellers to our land .”
A large , colourful courtyard played host to traditionally clothed locals , the colours of their outfits enriching the already fantastical experience . A hive of activity , the traditional melding with the modern , a thousand-year-old construction dealing with the stresses of the digital world , monks of the ‘ red hat sect ’ ensuring a perfect selfie was composed . I laughed to myself as I ’ d been ‘ too respectful ’ to take a photograph .
This arena felt like a family living room as groups mingled , discussing the next two days , the dress , the masks , the Cham dancing .
Gompa ’ s clung precariously to steep hills , well back from the mountain trails , as we ’ d continued to ride further north . High passes protected by the past , stupas , flags , and shrines , looking over those riding unknown roads , winding up and twisting down impossibly steep mountainsides .
TRAVERSE 49