Christmas Day was a day of rest. We stopped in Manang, elevation 11,800', to acclimatize and take advantage of the many day hikes you can make from the village. The object was to get a little bit higher and let our systems adjust to the altitude before moving on. Before the day began, the group with whom I'd be hiking appointed me Santa Claus to deliver presents to their Secret Santas. When everyone woke up, there were gifts at their seats around the dining room table. They opened them with breakfast, and we all set out on our morning hike, to a glacial lake just across the valley. We then continued hiking up to a ridge overlooking the village and peering far down the valley we had been walking up for the past several days. Finally it was time to return for lunch, another hearty, carbohydrate-filled meal of pasta and veggies.
After lunch, while many in the crew went Christmas shopping in town, searching for those post-holiday markdowns, I headed down the valley a bit, back to the village of Braga. I remembered passing through it the day before, and spotting a monastery up on the hillside. When I read in my guidebook that this monastery was over 500 years old, and housed an impressive collection of books and Buddhas, I decided to make the trip back. The trick was finding someone to open it for me, as the town was deserted for the season. After climbing up to the monastery and finding no one, I was headed down when I heard some pounding from a nearby house. The problem was finding the people. As I mentioned before, these tiny villages are made up of maze-like alleys, and whenever I felt like I was getting close to the sound, I'd end up an alley or two above where I thought it was. This continued for a Wonderland-like while until I finally just stood down on the road and shouted "Namaste" toward the sound. A little head appeared, and shortly after her parents showed up. We then did that little non-verbal dance whereby I indicated to them that I'd like to see the monastery, and they told me to hang on. A few minutes later, a woman showed up with a little baby in a papoose on her back, and she led me back up to the monastery, taking a couple breaks to catch our breath on the way. Once inside, she commenced lighting candles and incense, and rinsing out old bowls, while I looked around. After I gave a donation, she tied a red string around my neck and wished me luck crossing the pass. She then spent a few seconds getting the prayer wheel spinning for good measure, after which we walked outside and were on our merry way.
This half-frozen lake is runoff from the Gangapurna glacier.
The village of Braga, with the monastery situated on top.
This is a profile of the monastery. I followed the steps on the left side of the picture up and into some abandoned rooms, but the main sanctuary was locked.
So I headed back down into the village, into a maze of houses like this, until I found help.
This is the giant prayer wheel at the entrance to Braga Gompa.
The monastery is home to over 600 books, which are basically piles of paper with hand-written script that are bound by wooden tablets on either side and then wrapped in cloth.
The 100 or so images of the Buddha, large and small, line the lower sanctuary.
My host was busy lighting new candles and cleaning out old prayer bowls.
You can see the papoose on the woman's back, and the rows of books lining the top of the monastery. The buddhas lined the cases on the bottom.
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