Spontaneous choir practice
 

Spontaneous choir practice.

I was walking down the dusty street here in Padum, Zanskar, greeting every kid who'll have anything to do with me, and some who won't. Of all things, a spontaneous choir practice erupted.
 
I have to explain that the Hindi word "challo," (pronounced chuh-LOW) means, among other things, get away from here - you're bugging me. I was teaching these 10 kids my variation of the Beatles song, "Hello, Goodbye."
 
Hello, Hello,
I don't know why you say Hello,
I say Challo.
 
The kids started off slowly, but pretty soon people were sticking their heads out of nearby houses to see what the commotion was all about. Just to ensure that I passed the appropriate goofiness threshold, I was shaking each kid's hand and saying, with some kind of phony-posh accent, "Thank you so-o-o-o-oh much."
 
As I walked away, the kids were dancing in the street, singing "Hello, Hello, Hello! I say Challo!" and shaking hands, saying, "Thank you so-o-o-o-oh much." I thought I was going to crack a rib from laughing so much. That's a good day.
 
Love, love,
Dave
 
There are 12 photos below:
 
Choir practice.
 
 
These young women were walking down the road collecting cow dung for fuel (and pestering me to give them something.)
 
 
A suspension bridge that leads to a small village.
 
 
 
 
 
I love this kid.
 
 
Yeah, and this one, too.
 
 
I hiked up to this pass, and this is the view back down to the valley I'd come from. I spent four days here - in the village of Panikar.
 
 
Looking the other direction from the pass, you can see a long glacier fed from the mountains of Nun and Kun, at 23,000 feet elevation. 
 
 
Love.
 
 
More love.
 
 
The monastery at Rangdum, on the Zanskar road.
 
 
A monk walking across the valley floor.
 
(The End)