Returning to Dharamshala

This trip of mine – this wonderful journey – is nearing its end. No longer am I counting in months and weeks, but days and hours. Whilst I have mixed feelings about that, they are overridingly positive. I’m ready to return, to go back home to my lovely little corner of Kemp Town, Brighton. 

As I settled into India’s very unique rhythms, having arrived here a week or so ago, it became clear to me that I was in need of a breather from The Trip. The constant movement, the heat, the day-after-day of new experiences in Ultra HD had me somewhat frazzled. I needed to sit still, unpack my bag and unpack my mind. I needed to plonk myself down amidst a little peace and serenity. Step up Dharamshala, where I’d once spent a wonderful couple weeks, back in the days when my penchant for Thai-dye and fisherman’s trousers (if you know, you know…) was at its peak.

I’ve often heard people say that you shouldn’t return to places you’ve loved on long-ago travels; that it can lead to disappointment. It certainly can, of course, and in the case of near-deserted beaches ‘discovered’ 30 years ago, it’s often very sage advice. However, in many other instances, I have to disagree. I love revisiting old haunts, places that rank highly on my list of all-time travel greats. I always re-approach them with an open mind, fully expecting there to have been changes, some good and some bad. 

So I returned to Dharamshala, 30 years on, with all of this in mind, and a whole lot of excitement. On arrival this time round, the phone went into the bag and a much needed 72-hour digital detox began. No WhatsApp, banking, email or socials (no socials!) No writing of this article. Time to just be. 

Despite the expected levels of development over such a lengthy period of time, Dharamshala and McLeod Ganj’s spirit and serenity are still entirely intact. The mountains and foothills haven’t changed, the food is every bit as delicious as I remember and Golden Eagles still masterfully ride the thermals overhead. The sight of saffron-robed monks walking the streets, the sound of spinning prayer wheels, and the chanting of mantras as you circumambulate the Namgyal Monastery at 6am with just the true devotees for company… it’s all still magical.

It was just what I craved after what had been some very hard miles. As I walked in the hills, often entirely engulfed by prayer flags, my mind slowly unwound and moments from throughout my trip flooded back. I let them flow, whilst also trying to stay in the moment (still multi-tasking – I’ve got a way a little way to go yet on the mindfulness ladder!)

The spirituality and ambiance of the place felt entirely familiar, but I didn’t recognise many specific places from my last visit. In truth, I can’t even remember if I actually stayed in McLeod Ganj or Dharamshala the last time. (hey, I was young and easily led astray…) 

But I never forgot the impact that attending a teaching with His Holiness, The Dalai Lama, had on me. The warmth and playfulness of his voice, his air of compassion, and the utter devotion from the monks and Buddhist students in attendance, sitting shoulder to shoulder with a few lucked-out travellers such as myself. That experience, and my travels in Asia since, have steered me towards Buddhism, certainly not as a devout follower (far from it) but with its influences featuring heavily in my moral toolbox.

And, so, to get the opportunity to immerse myself in that aura again, to be close to His Holiness once more, and to receive a personal blessing, was beyond my wildest dreams. I’m writing this 5 days on from that moment, and I can tell you that I’m still floating. The love, warmth and compassion that exudes from within him is truly otherworldly. You don’t need to bottle it, it stays with you. 

This journey…wow. I am truly blessed.