China

Today, we embarked on our week-long road-trip from Lhasa to Kathmandu. Driving out of any built-up area is always interesting - if a little hair-raising - and we passed twelve foot long scaffolding poles being transported on bicycles, and groups of kids in grubby blue and white tracksuit uniforms on their way to school. Later, we saw a group of maybe fifty children performing jumping jacks en masse in a school courtyard.

As we drove out of Lhasa, we passed what we took to be some kind of police or military establishment. A pair of very smart young men stood to attention either side of the entrance, and wearing green uniforms at least two sizes too big for them. We had to smile at the giant sun-umbrellas they had been given to keep them cool. Bright red, and emblazoned with the Red Bull logo! Perhaps the Chinese military has a sense of humour but, in any event, talk about Communism meeting Capitalism!

We did not drive directly from Lhasa to our first overnight stop in Gyantse. Instead, we diverted to the Kamba La Pass to admire a staggering view of Lake Yamdrok set amidst snow-capped mountains. It was quite a drive up to about 5,000 metres, and it was our first real taste of cold since Botswana! My new jacket came in very handy, although the vista would have enticed me out of the car either way.

7,200 metre Nojin Kangstan overlooking Lake Yamdrok

We were stunned by the beauty of this vista. It was a beautiful day, and as a result the water in the lake was just a perfect blue. Bluer, even, than the waters of Jiuzhai Gou, and beautifully framed by the snowy peaks in the distance. Just a taste of things to come.

Back down the Pass (the road straight through is closed right now), we stopped at one scenic point and I took advantage of the bathroom facilities (i.e. the nearest bush that would preserve my modesty). Little clumps of toilet paper (and no doubt other delights if I had taken the time to look) marked the spots visited by others, and as I tip-toed my way out of the bushes, I noticed that some people had apparently been caught unprepared, as they had used one yuan banknotes as toilet paper! There's a fortune down there if someone is willing to, ahem, scrape off the residue.

Our chariot. Who needs seatbelts?

We drove for almost ten hours in total, including one final diversion which we certainly were not anticipating! Whereas just a few hours earlier we had been surrounded by snow-peaked mountains, we were suddenly surrounded by sand-dunes! We'll need to do some research to figure out what exactly is going on here, but we had fun running down the dunes, marvelling at the incredible diversity of geography that we were experiencing in just one day.

Our shadow stretched out 15 metersdown a sand dune

Leaving the sand dunes behind us, the last few hours took us through Tibetan farming villages. Houses seem to be quite similar whether they are in a rural or urban setting: grey stone, square buildings with skillfully carved and brightly painted window frames and doors, and four chimney-like structures at each corner adorned with Tibetan prayer flags in primary colours. Our visit coincided with harvest, and so the fields were hives of activity: reaping crops or ploughing land. It was wonderful - if humbling - to experience the incredible work associated with the harvest, and - while Chinese writing was omnipresent on signs in the villages, even on the children's school uniform - we felt closer to the real Tibet - if that still exists - than we did in Lhasa.

Our excitement grew as we approached Gyantse, inspired by the towering 13th century fortress Byantse Dzong which looks like something straight out of Lord of the Rings. We quickly checked into the Jian Zing hotel, which had suspiciously smelly rooms and beds hard even by this region's standards, but were more anxious to explore the environs and find something to eat. Immediately outside the hotel, we chanced upon a tailor and took the opportunity to have Lloyd's trousers patched (remember the ones that were damaged in the laundry in Kenya all those months ago?). The tailor and his assistant found the silver duct-tape that's been keeping the trousers together quite amusing, but made light work of patching,

The best five yuan we've spent in a while....

We also couldn't resist diverting to the local fruit and meat market, which was close to shutting up shop, but offered unique insight into life in a small Tibetan town. The market was indoor, although both ends of the 100 metre long structure were open to the elements. Along the length of the market, there were four rows of stalls (although only three were in action), variously displaying fruits, vegetables or meats. The veggies were gloriously fresh and presumably organic: if that is indeed the case, then we are converts because these veggies were picture perfect. At the meat end, we saw a yak that had been cut into maybe twenty different pieces, some still with yak hair attached! Just about every part of the beast was up for sale, and only the entrails had been discarded and lay inches from our feet. About a dozen dogs roamed the market, gnawing on bones or looking for the next tasty morsel.

Down one full side of the market were the homes of some of the vendors: maybe five metres square. By peeking through some of the doors which opened onto their own stall area, we could clearly see the sleeping area, the cooking area, and television blaring one of the many Government CCTV channels.

After an adequate if not particularly tasty dinner at Tashi, we strolled back to the hotel, avoiding streams of spit and who knows what else falling from the windows above, and picking our path carefully in the midst of street garbage, stray dogs (appropriately termed 'mangy curs' in our Frommer's), and the odd cow or goat. At the end of a glorious day, we were charmed by a tiny black kitten that had apparently been locked out of its home. For the record, I've not allowed myself to pet another cat since I left my twelve year old cat back in California in June. But this one was perhaps the hardest one to resist so far.

Once again, our tour company let us down, this time failing to deliver tickets to visit the Potala Palace. Can you imagine coming to Lhasa and not seeing Potala? Not to worry, said our tour leader, "there's nothing to see" except for a "bunch of empty rooms".

The group was not convinced, so Lloyd and I (and two others) ended up lining up ourselves for tickets at 7.30am on Saturday morning for a Sunday afternoon visit. We easily secured 16 of the 5,000 available tickets, and duly reported to the Potala gates at noon on Sunday. Of course, our group "leader" never bothered to thank us for our efforts.

It was a fair climb up to the official entrance, and the thin air and midday heat had us all pausing to catch our breath. Once we reached the Eastern Courtyard, we had to put our cameras away, so I'm afraid you'll have to do with my written description of the interior, and frankly there's just no way I can even begin to do it justice. But here goes...

The structures we visited earliest in our visit were mostly wooden, and generally painted in bright primary colours: it reminded me of a giant doll's house and - indeed - there were a few empty rooms with little to admire except recently painted blue rafters or linear patterns in yellow, red and green on the walls. However, very quickly we progressed into a series of reception rooms for various Dalai Lamas which - happily - were not freshly painted, but dusty, dark and harmonious spaces. Some rooms included some quite lavish and almost superhuman-sized thrones belonging to particular Dalai Lamas. Other rooms were temples used by one or more Dalai Lama, and were littered with the now familiar offerings of small denomination yuan banknotes (though we did see one $100 bill) and silk scarves. Many rooms were lined with row upon row of square compartments housing ancient - perhaps going back as far as the 17th century! - scriptures wrapped in wood and faded silks. Monks wrapped in blankets policed each room, some happy to share a smile, others choosing to share their religion in soft, melodic chant as they rocked back and forth, cross legged, head buried in a book of religious text.

Since we couldn't take pictures inside, here are some Potala Flowers for you to enjoy....

The Potala was commissioned by Dalai Lama V (1617 - 1682), and it seems that he holds a very special place in the hearts of Buddhists. While every Dalai Lama is buried here (with the exception of Dalai Lama VI who turned out to overdo it a bit with the concubines), the tomb of Dalai Lama V is significantly larger. The tombs basically comprise a stack of rectangular, golden boxes, ornately decorated with precious gems and thousands and thousands of pounds of gold!

I can also report that Buddhists are cat lovers, having seen three cats happily settled and cared for within the Potala. One lucky feline enjoyed a rather comfortable looking bed in a blanket filled plastic tray stapled to a pillar about four feet off the ground and overlooking one of the Dalai Lama's reliquary stupas!

Of interest, there is no doubt that the Potala is at serious risk of being destroyed by fire. You'll be glad to know that Chinese officials are present to monitor the fire risk, which must be of great comfort to the Tibetans. Additionally, we did notice that some pretty high-tech security cameras were in place, presumably also for the Chinese to monitor the 'fire risk', although given the amount of destruction involved in installing cameras, we might have suggested that they just install smoke alarms and a sprinkler system instead. I guess the cameras serve multiple purposes?

Overall, we left the Potala mystified that anyone would have the gall to try and pass it off as a "bunch of empty rooms". The collection of reliqary stupas was unlike anything we have seen in any of the temples or monasteries visited to date, and certainly the scale of these tombs (think room size at least!)- in a very tangible way - helped us to understand the Dalai Lamas' significance to the Tibetan people. So yes - stand in line for those tickets (and don't forget your passport ) - they're worth their weight in gold.

On our way back down from the Potala, we saw the uglier side of Tibet tourism, with young girls offering to have themselves photographed in traditional costume for cash. The young lady shown below - you can see the pile of yuan just behind her - was actually being directed by the middle-aged man hiding in the bush above her. A second young lady (video to follow when we have a better internet connection!) was prostrating for cash - which to be fair we've seen a lot of people do (I guess in Buddhism it's ok to pay someone else to worship for you?), but we felt was something of an exploitation. For as long as they can bring in good money looking cute for tourists (and yes, we were guilty too) why bother to school these little girls?

After our wonderful visit to the Potala, we took a cycle-rickshaw back into town - probably grossly overpaying at 10 yuan (about US$1.25) for the five minute ride, but well worth it to avoid the life threatening event that is crossing a road here in Lhasa. After three days, we finally succumbed to a little shopping. In any event, so far we've only had thin fleece top layers with us, so we had always planned to add a sensible, wind-breaker layer to our kit at this stage so we don't freeze at Everest Base Camp! And, as a very popular acclimatization stop for the more serious mountaineer, Lhasa is certainly the place to shop for outdoor gear! We were shocked to find high quality jackets at maybe 10% the price they would be back home. We suspect our purchases may be a season or two (or three!) out of date, but we're hardly slaves to fashion (as anyone who knows us will attest) and $25 each seemed like a very small price to pay to ensure comfort over the next week.

Lloyd loves his new goretex jacket so much, he threatened to sleep with it on.

Tomorrow, we will leave Lhasa and head out in 4x4s to Gyantse and Shigatse (both at about 3,900 metres) on our way to Everest Base Camp. We'd like to assure our Mothers that we have no intention of climbing Everest. Well, not this time anyway. ;o)

But we can't leave Lhasa without mentioning the wonderful Summit Cafe where Lloyd was able to get his best caffeine fix since leaving London (albeit pricey by local standards), and where even I could get enthusiastic about the carrot cake. It became our haven during our time in Lhasa, offering comfortable chairs, friendly staff and cheap, fast internet access (16 yuan for an hour, or free wifi with own laptop). Life is just better with a good caffeine fix early in the day, no?

Jacquie working on the Blog. A labour of love, especially with a cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake!

Our first night in Lhasa was less than ideal, in large part as our room at the Hotel Sai Kang overlooked the noisy, main drag. At some point during the night, I suffered a mysterious – and happily shortlived – fever that left me drenched in sweat top to toe. Lloyd’s own altitude adjustment left him with a severe headache upon waking (although that may have had something to do with the '628ml+/- 10ml' bottle of Lhasa beer he drunk the night before), but I was so excited to wake up feeling “well” after the fever that I had us both up and out to breakfast just after 8am. We enjoyed eggs, bacon, coffee and tea at the eerily quiet but adequate “Tanganye Café”, once again frustrated by the lack of toasting applied to “toast” in this region of the world.

After breakfast, we stroll up Yutuo Lu towards the Jokhang Temple. Tourists are in the minority here, and we are vastly outnumbered by pilgrims and morning worshippers, all in traditional Tibetan dress. For some, a visit to the Jokhang is part of their daily, early morning ritual. For others, the Jokhang represents something of a pilgrimage, and we see groups of Tibetans in their most glorious costumes being photographed in front of the Jokhang’s impressive façade. We feel humble and privileged to be allowed to share this experience with them. As we approach the gates, souvenir vendors become less numerous, replaced instead by entrepreneurs selling yak butter in flasks, silk scarves and other items for the pilgrims to offer to the idols within. But we are more immediately consumed with the thirty or so individuals prostrating themselves on the tiny courtyard in front of the Jokhang. At varying speeds, Tibetans move from a standing position, hands together in prayer, and then kneeling before lying completely on the ground. Many use wooden planks to ease the motion of their hands, which results in a constant, sand-papery din around us. It doesn’t matter what we believe. You can’t fail but be touched by the demonstrations of faith and the feeling of ‘goodness’ all around.

Finally inside the Jokhang, we join the non-pilgrim conveyer and shuffle around several darkened rooms filled with brightly painted Buddhas and Protectors. Pilgrims mutter prayers as they pass each Buddha. You name it, there’s a Buddha for it, and it seems you must make an offering to each and every one – the Buddhist version of covering all the bases? Lloyd observes how much more convenient it is for so many to have but one God. Buddhists dressed in red robes scoop up the heaps of small denomination banknotes, and keep an eye on the yak butter offerings to make sure that the whole thing doesn’t go up in flames. As an active place of worship, no photos are permitted, but the dark, warm atmosphere is comforting despite the poorly circulating air – thick with incense – which makes it all the more difficult for us to breath.

A fantastic picture taken by Lloyd on the Jokhang Monastery Roof

Many Monks are Visitors here too. This monk is enjoying the rooftop view over the Potala which we'll visit in a few days.

Back outside, we enjoy a spectacular view of the Potala Palace from the roof of the Jokhang. The sky is clearing, and it promises to be a beautiful day. Perhaps for different reasons, some Pilgrims also seem very happy with the day, and they banter light-heartedly, occasionally breaking out into spontaneous song, as if to reinforce the warmth we can’t help but feel for Tibetans.

The first thing we really truly notice that distinguishes the Tibetans we meet is their smiles. While we have (and still to a lesser extent) have been surrounded by people whose mouths seem able only to hack, spit and shout, here in Lhasa a tremendously bright and sincere smile can be found returning any grinning glance from you. It’s a welcome relief, and seems to match the pace of life here somewhat. While Lhasa is in no way a Tibetan enclave (there do seem to be more Chinese than Tibetans), there approach to people seems much different. Beyond smiles, the Tibetans seem to actually see you, instead of walking through you. With as little as they seem to have, the appearance of happiness or at least a positive attitude seems to permeate a large number of their population. Maybe it’s partly attributable to their faith? Perhaps the lack of oxygen? Whatever it is, we like it and enjoy giving and receiving the most simple and basic of human gifts: the smile.

Walking back to the hotel, we enjoy a one yuan (about US$0.17!!!) bag of chips cooked freshly on the street. My Dad would be in heaven here: potatoes peeled, cut and fried right in front of you. Only our general caution against street food prevents us from buying a five yuan bag!

No ketchup needed..... a little salt and I'm on Top of the World on top of the World (almost).

A little laundry later, and we’re off to the Sera Monastery. I know we should be ashamed to admit it but we’re already feeling a little “monastery’d out” after almost three weeks in China. But we find ourselves shuffling past some more enormous Buddhas. This monastery was founded in the 15th century, and decorations high above our heads include vast collections of ancient weapons, and shelf upon shelf of silk-wrapped scriptures. Of course our real reason for visiting Sera is the Monastery’s famous debating monks and, come three o’clock, we find ourselves in a picturesque tree-filled courtyard, surrounded by camera-laden tourists hungry for the ‘action’ to begin. In the courtyard, about 100 monks dressed in glorious red robes are sitting with crossed legs in apparent contemplation. Shortly after three, a gong sounds and we half expect the monks to start sumo-wrestling.

In the midst of the chaos, one Monk quietly contemplates why 100s of tourists find him interesting.

What follows is probably one of the most surreal experiences we have had. The monks pair off, with one of the two sitting cross-legged, and the other standing to present his arguments. As each standing monk makes his point (remember, this is all in Tibetan, so we can only guess that the seated monk will challenge the point), he swings his arms widely, bringing them together with a very loud clap of the hands directed at the seated party. At the same time, he raises his foot and stamps it to the ground as if the quality of the argument will be improved by the volume of the accompanying actions.

Responses range from mock or real laughter, physical taunts (like clearing out the wax from the opponent’s ears), to serious consideration and response. While I can’t comment on the content or quality of the debate, I can tell you that the noise from fifty or so debating pairs was quite something. As time passed, the debates seemed to become more physical. Pairs expanded into groups, and the younger monks seemed to ham things up a bit for the tourists who flocked to the areas promising the most action. Some tourists took it upon themselves to actually wander into the debating area in order to get better pictures. This was completely unnecessary as, at most, you were but a few feet from the monks at any time. We found the invasion disrespectful and distasteful, and Lloyd took it upon himself to, um, encourage some of the invaders to move back to the periphery. We sincerely hope that the actions of a few anxious to secure the ‘best’ photos will not result in the permanent exclusion of tourists at this sight, for this was a special experience that we will never forget.