Back to Civilization…

September 1st, 2013

About a week ago I made my way out of the isolated Spiti Valley and rode quickly back to New Delhi. Due to problems with the hydroelectric power station in Spiti, the entire valley was without electricity during my two week visit. It had been without power for over a month before I arrived. I suspect the power is still off. I’d wager that its either because some inconsiderate person refused to bribe the right people into fixing the problem, or that, in order to turn the power back on, the bureaucracy needs the proper paperwork to be printed locally, Xeroxed, and stamped in octuplicate – which they can’t do until the power is turned back on.

Regardless, I didn’t need much electricity when I was there. I had made my way to Spiti from Leh – with my Australian friend Tarin as passenger – nearly three weeks ago. We camped a bunch, both on the way to, and while in Spiti Valley. We had batteries for our headlamps, food and gas for the stove, and the bike carried our gear. We were a fairly self-sufficient, mobile unit of tourism. 

Getting into the valley was a bit of a challenge. Abnormal rains caused landslides which blocked the main road in. Tarin and I took the less traveled route, which was not in good shape either. Some parts of the roads were washed out, but the bike preformed like a champion and managed to get us to Kaza, the capital of Spiti, without too many complications.  

Spiti Valley is quite similar to Leh, although the tourism industry is 15-20 years less developed. Most people in Spiti Valley lead simple lives, and survive by farming peas and barley. Shepard’s graze yaks, goats, sheep, and donkeys to make ends meet as well. Despite the hardships of such a lifestyle, the people of Spiti were some of the kindest people I have ever met in all my travels.

The primary language was commonly referred to by the locals as “Spiti Language”, and I was told it was very similar to Tibetan, the border of which is only 150 km. away from Kaza. Most youths and twenty-somethings are proficient in English, particularly in and around Kaza. I found this even more impressive when I learned that the teaching of Hindi, the most common language in India, was only introduced into the schools of Spiti Valley in 1990. English was introduced at about the same time. Even the older locals have a knack for languages. I saw many people, who had to have been in their thirties when Hindi was first introduced to the area, have fluid conversations in Hindi with the handful of Indian nationals who were touring the valley. I was even more surprised to discover that some of the shepherds I came across – who looked positively ancient – knew a word or two of English, which is strange when you consider that they might not have even seen a foreigner until they were in their thirties or forties.

I enjoyed my simple and peaceful time in the stunningly beautiful valley, but decided to head back to New Deli when I learned that a fellow traveler – an Indian traveler named Anish, from Hyderabad – was heading back to Delhi at nearly the same time I was.       

We made the trip in record time, going from Kaza to Manali on day one, taking a full days rest there, and then we made a huge push for New Delhi the following day. That last day of riding was as exciting as it was brutal. I clocked almost 14 hours in the saddle, with a passenger and all of our gear in tow. Anish and I went from the pine-tree covered mountains of Manali, into the sweltering summer heat of New Delhi all in one long day. We passed herds of goats and sheep on the way out of Manali. Arriving in New Delhi, we were greeted by cows which meandered on the median, as well as two elephants which were parading alongside the expressway immediately outside of Delhi, probably on their way to wedding.       

With a 6am departure from Manali, I made it to New Delhi in time for dinner in with my friend Girish, who had hosted via couchsurfing.com back in June, and who also joined me for some adventuring when I rode up to Leh and Kashmir in early July. Over dinner with some of his friends, we exchanged stories about travel, thoughts on life, and I inhaled some much needed spicy Indian food followed, of course, by some sweets and tea.     

I had made a speedy transition from one kind of environment to another. From the unspoiled peace and simplicity of life in Kaza, to the hectic and ever-changing cityscape of modern New Delhi in just a few days. I had electricity again; Internet too. Urban life buzzed all around me.

A week ago today, I was camping on the outskirts of Comic, population 36, the highest city in Asia at an elevation of 4572 meters (about 15,000 ft.). The houses are ramshackle, yet picturesque. The air is fresh, and natural vistas stretched to the horizon. The people often wave and say hello visitors, as well as to each other. Currently, I’m back in New Delhi, population 16.5 million. The streets are cracked and broken; crowded by people walking at a brisk pace with their heads down, looking up only to dodge honking cars, sputtering tuk-tuks, erratic motorbikes, and traffic that sneaks up you from behind because its driving the wrong way.

The vibe in New Delhi, and I suppose any large city, is frenetic but alive. If you know how it works, its anything but overwhelming. Bustling city life is invigorating in a way that’s wholly different from places like Spiti. There is an order to the chaos here in New Delhi. However, there is chaos in the chaos too. The air is thick with pollution; homeless people and beggars sleep on the medians near busy intersections alongside their families.

I’m not sure either mode of living is better than the other. Life is extremely hard in Comic for some reasons; extremely difficult for some residents of New Delhi for other reasons. I was, however, struck by the implications of my return to “civilization”. If civility had anything to do with civilization, I think it could be argued that I was running away from civilization. However, according to Merriam and Webster, civility is merely an ancillary component of civilization. According to the dictionary, reaching a high level of “culture, science, industry, and government” is what primarily defines the word ‘civilization’.

The dictionary doesn’t define what a high level is, nor does it give any hints as to when levels of “culture, science, industry, and government” are sufficiently high. How much of these things is enough? Do we keep increasing science, industry, and government until homo-sapiens unequivocally Win The Planet, or go down trying? Does New York have more civilization than, say, Paris? I think these are then kinds of things philosophers are supposed to sort out.

Personally, I wonder if we have enough of these things already. I think I do. I think many people probably do; some realize it, and some don’t. I think much of the world could use more civilization. They don’t yet have access to its core components, but development is on the way. Places like Spiti remind me how fortunate I am to have enough of everything already. I don’t think there’s anything more that I truly need. In Spiti, I quite easily melted into a lack-nothing state of being. My existence was simple, and simplicity makes me feel whole.

That said, modern convinces – which are certainly complex – made my trip to Spiti both possible and more enjoyable. I’m no Luddite. I love technology. Fortunately, I know enough about technology that I avoid updating it like the plague. Very rarely are new devices, models, or versions worth the hassle. It takes serious awareness to be well informed, an enthusiast, yet remain hassle-free. My lifestyle helps me out with this to a large degree. I simply don’t have access to new gadgets, new websites, or new gossip. I wouldn’t have any use for these things anyhow. In places like Spiti, I forget such things even exists. How can one be bothered by something they don’t know exists?

I don’t think living life with my head in the sand is any solution to problems that come along with development. However, time away from advertising – from companies which advertise products, from peers which advertise themselves, from ones’ own mind which generates the familiar ad campaigns of ‘I, Me, Mine’ in response – can be life changing. Who and what are we? Where is the line which separates needs from wants? How, when, and in what ways does the pursuit of things we want, but may not need, make us happy, or unhappy?

It’s far easier to figure these things out when there is nobody around to supply the answers. And, I think it’s imperative that everyone thinks about these kinds of things. As the Harvard psychologist Dan Gilbert pointed out in one of his wonderful TED talks, humans have the unique ability to miswant things; that is, to want something which, unbeknownst to our conscious mind, make us unhappy. What a tremendously counterproductive use of time, effort, and resources! Are you miswanting anything? I sure hope not. I hope I’m not either.   

Yes, I used my beloved Kindle while in Spiti, and yes, thanks to my laptop I had access to thousands of books, and of course, because of my upbringing I could comprehend most of them. Additionally, I happily used my trusty motorbike to get around, and I even found a petrol pump in Kaza which supplied the fuel which makes it move. Modernity is unavoidable. Time, if it exists, has an both arrow and a preferred direction. Change is inevitable, such is the nature of things.  

Companies definitely exist, and they have to make a product if people will buy it. But, the things we have and use are not who and what we are. The products people need are only a tiny sub-set of the products people will buy. A lot of convincing gets done in order to make people buy a product or service. Companies have to convince us to want things more than we would otherwise. Not only is this state of affairs mostly unavoidable, it’s also completely fine if one learns how sort these things out for themselves.

In Spiti there was nothing to remind me that I was in need of anything else. I rarely felt any sense of lack while there. After being in New Delhi for a few days, my mind caught up with the pace of the city; the pace of modern, urban life. The world, and its environments, will do what they will do. For me, I find that it is important to understand how the surrounding environment affects my mind. Doing this is simply a matter of objective observation. I simply observe and note how the environment affects my mind. I observe how the external environment makes me feel. I note what kinds of thoughts arise because of the environment around. A moment of repose is critical. Only in such moments of pause do I truly understand how the environment is effecting me. Thought arise in response to the environment. In New Delhi my mind is more revved up. When I walk the streets, I want this thing or that thing – usually food. Upon closer inspection, I realize that such wants are likely miswants. Do I really need to eat three lunches? Probably not.

In this way I can more efficiently sort out my needs and wants. For example, I get momentarily excited when I see and smell a place serving a good Thali, or a sweet Ladoo, or hot chai, or cold Kulfi, or fresh-squeezed juice, or fried sugar covered in syrup, or… There is a lot of food in India. But, the same goes for gadgets and potential gifts I pass by. I get excited for a couple of moments. I note my excitement and impulses, but I try and keep walking. Eventually, the excitement fades. Over time, I enjoy the freedom of a light bag, few objects which need to be attend to, and a stomach which isn’t upset around the clock. In general, I find that I need surprisingly little. It has become less about impulse control, and more about recognizing impulses and desires for what they are: ephemeral.     

I enjoyed my time in Spiti immensely. It is a beautiful place. My life was cheap and simple, and the locals were exceedingly civil. Personally, I had enough culture, science, industry, and government to suit my needs. Every day was carefree. Tarin and I went where we pleased, and did what we enjoyed. Mostly, we took in the scenery, and basked in the freedom each day provided.

I have enjoyed being back in New Delhi, too. It’s been fun to reconnect with Girish, and it’s been nice to have electricity and Internet again. I got my laptop fixed, I download some new music, I emailed friends and family. However, I must admit that I wasted an unconscionable amount of time mindlessly browsing the Web. I was able to catch myself here and there. Sometimes I was able to refrain from researching which version of Linux I would theoretically install should my laptop break (Mint 15 with XFCE for sure). Occasionally, I was able to walk away from my mindless hunt for cheap laughs (blooper reels, memes, and the fail-blog are my nemesis). Sometimes I was stuck for hours before I woke up to what I was doing. Part of my growth has been realize what it feels like to be truly awake; to be intently aware of what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it.   

Coming back from Spiti, from Big Nature, from a summer in Ladakh, has been great. What I noticed most in my first few days back was how much the environment effected my mindset. I like New Delhi. I like cities and “the fast life” from time to time. In the past, I’ve noticed my tendency to become the effects of the environment which surrounded me. Hectic places made me hectic. Peaceful places made me peaceful. Social places made me more extroverted. Places of solitude made me a contented introvert. 

For the first time ever I think I’m finding a way to be what it is I want to be in any environment. I basically know how I work and what I truly want, and I think I can attain that in almost any environment. Being a happy person is an aspiration of mine; so is being a helpful person. I’m still looking for a way to combine to two, and I’m still sorting out what I am, what life is all about, and how to more positively engage with it. For me, being fully awake seems to be a good first step.