Drokpa Journal

Dates Traveled: October 2003 - August 2004
Various trips March-November 2005
Various trips February-October 2006

On October 15, after years of being near the top of my ‘must-see’ list, I was finally on my way to Tibet. The overland trip cost more than a flight, so I found myself airborne for 1 1/2 hours over some beautiful mountains and turquoise lakes. My goofy grin had been used before - flying into Kathmandu the first time, and also landing in Cuba, but this was pretty special. Unfortunately, the airport is a 1 1/2 hour bus ride from Lhasa, but that simply gave me time to prepare my next grin, which was unleashed as we drove by the Potala Palace. Spectacular.

I suppose before diving into first impressions and experiences I should provide some general information on the region. It isn’t known as the ‘Roof of the World’ for nothing. The average elevation in Tibet is over 4000 m, or 13,100′, with Mt. Everest (Qomolangma to the locals) topping the world at around 8848 m/29,028′. Lhasa itself sits at 3600 m/11,800′. If Denver, Colorado is the ‘mile-high city’, I guess Lhasa is the ‘two-and-a-quarter-mile-high city’! The Tibetan Autonomous Region (T.A.R.) has about 2.7 million people, but with the historical Tibetan region, which today is incorporated into the Chinese provinces of Qinghai, Gansu, Sichuan, and Yunnan, there are estimated to be about 6 million Tibetans. ‘Official’ numbers on ethnicity put Tibet at 92.2% Tibetan, and Lhasa at 87%. My eyes must be getting bad, as I’d drop both numbers considerably. One last comment before I get started. One really gets tired of reading things which begin with the phrase, “After the peaceful liberation of 1951…..”

Barkhor Circuit

Where did I head first in Lhasa? The Barkhor, which is the kora (pilgrimage circuit) around the Jokhang Temple (itself the spiritual heart of Lhasa). I know we Americans catch a lot of grief around the world for being over-the-top in our choice of descriptive words - everything is ‘awesome’. I usually try to avoid that - except where warranted. The Barkhor circuit is incredible. In over 10 months I never tired of making a lap. There are people from all over Tibet in their regions traditional clothes. The Kongpo women in their pillbox hat and over-dresses without sleeves; the Khampa men with their knives, braided hair, and red or black tassel; the Amdo women with turquoise and coral in their braided hair. Some continually spin prayer wheels, others finger prayer beads, and still others chant. Some choose to prostrate - standing, their hands touching as if in prayer, they briefly touch their forehead, throat, and heart. They then stretch out on the ground, stand, walk one body length, and repeat. Others prostrate facing the Jokhang, advancing only one side-step (as opposed to one body length) around the Barkhor. Mothers with children of 2-3 years age can be seen prostrating, their toddling child tethered to their waist by a cord so they don’t run off. There are some ‘professional’ prostrators who do it for the money, but I’ve also seen many prostrating around the Barkhor in the dark. There is no mistaking their intentions - they’re all good and pure. It really is a magical circuit, with a sense of timelessness. Amidst this religious outpouring are the stalls along the way selling souvenirs and religious articles. Completing the picture are the military personnel stationed periodically, and the video cameras and loud speakers on nearby rooftops.

Potala Palace

As you walk along the front of the Potala - mesmerized by the massive 13-storey masterpiece, you weave in and out of the devout walking the kora, and those prostrating in place while facing the former winter home of the Dalai Lamas. There are many rooms, but one can only visit about 23 of them. These are mostly chapels, meeting halls, tombs of former Dalai Lamas, and residence rooms. The rooms are dark, and the place has an eerie, deserted feel. However, I still had a sense of awe at what the place must have been like in its day. The detail in some of the rooms was impressive, with my favorite rooms being the one housing the enormous gold-encased stupa/tomb of the 5th Dalai Lama, and the rooms showing 3D models of mandalas (a circular 2D meditation device). The views from the roof down to the former village at it’s base - now in ruins, and along to the busy road and kora-walkers was impressive. I enjoyed my various visits (aside from the $12.10 entrance fee. Locals pay $0.12) as the building is a symbol for so much and has such a history. A building was erected in the 7th century, though most of what we see today was built during the reign of the 5th Dalai Lama in the 17th century. As with most sites in Tibet, the pilgrims make the visit a memorable experience - chanting, placing money and kathas (white ceremonial scarves) on the altars, adding butter to the flickering butter lamps, rubbing prayer beads on statues, and touching their forehead to various points in the room. Outside, the kora of the Potala is similar to that of the Barkhor in that you can show your devotion but also do your shopping at the same time - the kora is lined with large prayer wheels on the right, and small shops or tables on the left.

Jokhang Temple

The next major attraction to take in was the Jokhang Temple. I always went early in the morning so as to visit it with the many pilgrims, and the feeling inside was incredible - the reverence the pilgrims have for the place and their belief is amazing to witness. I usually started a visit by doing a kora around the building, spinning prayer wheels as I went. I then joined the long, shuffling line of pilgrims and inched my way into the temple. Many people bring small bills to leave on altars, while even more bring bags of butter or lit butter lamps. Throughout the Jokhang there are large butter lamps - typically in each of the chapels, and people add butter from their bag or drip melted butter from their own lit lamp. For the most part it’s an orderly, slow-moving procession that ducks into each small chapel and then back to the main room. However, like anything, there are those who want to take shortcuts. Most entertaining are those who jump the line, but can’t be bothered to squeeze into each chapel. Instead, they drip some of their butter into another’s butter lamp, such that when that person enters the chapel and adds butter to the main lamp, they will transfer the other’s butter as well. Even Tibetans look for the quick and easy route to peace and happiness! Most of the statues were destroyed during the Cultural Revolution, so what we see today are replicas. Most important, and indeed the most important shrine in Tibet, is the 1.5 m statue of Sakyamuni (the historical Buddha) at the age of 12. Pilgrims touch their forehead to the statue’s leg before being manhandled by a monk bouncer and told to move along. Like the Potala, the Jokhang was begun in the 7th century, but most of the work was done in the 17th century under the ‘Great Fifth’ Dalai Lama. Every visit gives me an amazing sense of being part of something powerful - to go through with the pilgrims and to watch them prostrate, chant, drip butter, offer money and kathas, finger prayer beads, rub certain pillars, listen at certain holes, and to rub their knee in certain stones. The dark, smoky interior filled with a myriad of smells - burning butter, incense, and unwashed pilgrims. Enchanting.

Gyantse

I wanted to get out to Western Tibet before the weather became too bad, so after only 5 days in Lhasa I headed that direction. First was a 7 hour local bus to Shigatse. The next day I decided to take a detour, so hopped a bus for the 1 1/2 hour ride to Gyantse. Gyantse has a walled compound which at one time contained 15 monasteries from 3 different orders of Tibetan Buddhism, though most are now gone. The existing monastery isn’t that special, though I did visit when the monks were gathered in the assembly hall and chanting, which is always good. Next to the monastery (gompa) is a large chorten, the Gyantse Kumbum, which was impressive. The six floors of the tiered structure contain 77 chapels. Most of the statues in the chapels were destroyed during the Cultural Revolution, but many of the 14th century murals weathered the onslaught. From the walled compound we walked through the old Tibetan quarter and climbed the hill to the ruined fort (dzong). There wasn’t much left intact, but the views down to the Kumbum and across all of Gyantse were good. That night a Swiss guy and I played pool at one of the numerous outdoor pool tables found throughout Tibet. There’s something surreal about playing pool on a dusty street, a crowd of men gathered around to watch/help, while nearby a group of women sit in the back of a tractor-pulled cart singing songs into the cold night air.

Shigatse

Back in Shigatse I wandered through Tashilhunpo Monastery - home of the Panchen Lamas. It is basically a walled city with some fantastic chapels. I really liked Tashilhunpo, with each visit enhanced by the numerous pilgrims. As per usual, the kora around the walled compound was also a highlight, with the usual prayer wheels, rock carvings, and prayer flags. I was in Shigatse a few times. I don’t like the city, but I never tired of the monastery. As with all sites which I visited more than once, each time I went I discovered something new.

The Road West

A 5 hour, dusty bus ride through a dry, barren landscape and dry riverbeds had me in Lhatse. On my reconnaissance hike to a checkpoint I witnessed many people working in the fields, as it was harvest time. Most were throwing grain in the air to let the breeze separate the seed from the chaff. Why a recon hike? Because the next morning at 5:45 I was walking by headlamp and points of reference picked out the day before. I found my way down to the Brahmaputra River and along that to safely pass the checkpoint. As you’ve guessed, I had no official permits to travel in that region. To travel legitimately to Western Tibet requires a guide, permits, a LandCruiser, and lots of cash. However, the one bus company that runs out there is happy to take your money, so it’s cheaper to hop on that and then turn yourself in to PSB (the police) in the town of Ali, pay a fine, and get the necessary permits. After a short wait by the road I flagged down that bus and I was on my way.

The bus was a sleeper bus, but with only two rows of bunks. The beds were about 3 feet wide by just under 6 feet long, but that space was actually considered two beds! Luckily I had the entire space to myself for most of the journey and could lie diagonally, as that’s the only way I fit. Along the route I stared out the window at the typical scenery of Western Tibet - dry, barren landscapes of peaks and valleys. I saw nomads (drokpas) with their yaks, sheep, and goats near their tents.

As you can imagine, one becomes familiar with the mannerisms and habits of others when you’re cooped up on a bus for a long time. There were the talkers, the hockers/spitters, and the smokers. It was even getting to the point where I could recognize the women by their bare cheeks, as at the toilet stops they’d simply squat on the road behind the bus. I suppose road is a misnomer, as it was a rocky, dusty, winding trail. It took its toll on the bus, as we broke down about every hour, and finally broke down for good around midnight. I’ve always been impressed with how the drivers in these countries can keep the buses going - definitely a baling wire and duct tape existence. However, this time it was serious, and so we sat.

We awoke to a cold morning, as we’d broken down at over 5000 m on a windswept, barren stretch of road. I took the opportunity to walk around a bit - up some of the mountains, and down to a lake. That gave me a headache, but everyone was suffering from the altitude and lack of food/water. After sitting for 21 hours somebody came by with whatever part we needed, and so we were on the go again. The rest of the trip was more of the same until we finally rolled into Ali. My expected 48-hour journey had taken 79 hours to cover the 1300 kms/780 miles, and we’d stopped the grand total of two times to eat. A tip? Bring lots of food and water on any bus trip to Western Tibet! One normally has to prove himself worthy before seeing something sacred/holy. I guess when you want to see two such sites - Mt. Kailash and Lake Manasarovar, both of which are sacred to people of 2-4 different religions, the test is considerably harder. Still, it was an adventure, and a bus journey I’m not likely to forget anytime soon.

Ali

I promptly surrendered myself to the police, paid my $36 fine, and was issued the necessary permits. Ali doesn’t have much, except numerous ‘beauty parlors’ (fronts for prostitution) for the large Chinese military presence in town. Ali sits close to the politically sensitive and disputed border region with India. I spent a few days recovering and trying to sort out a ride to Mt. Kailash - finally catching a jeep heading that way. The jeep was packed - about 15 passengers when 10 would have been comfortable. We also had the customary breakdown - sitting for 2 hours while the mechanic worked his voodoo magic. We finally rolled into the small village of Darchen at 11 PM, only to find there was no place to sleep. I simply crashed on the bench seats of a small teashop.

Mt. Kailash (Kang Rinpoche)

Morning ‘duty’ - as was typical in all Western Tibetan towns, was simply in the nearest open space. It makes more sense to ask where the toilet isn’t than where it is. An hour’s walk up a ridge provided my first views of the sacred mountain. Beautiful. There were many prayer flags and rock cairns - as expected. However, there were also piles of clothing of all types - a sight I’d become accustomed to during the kora. At various points pilgrims undergo a symbolic death, leaving an article of clothing or lock of hair as a sign of leaving behind their old life. Later I climbed up to a plateau littered with rock cairns, carved tablets, yak horns, clothing, and locks of hair - a sky burial site. More on those later. Most of the rest of the day was a slog along a river - interspersed with some beautiful views of Mt. Kailash, to Dira Puk Monastery. During the high season there are large tents set up for accommodation, but my only option was to sleep on the floor of the monastery. I awoke early to the morning sun illuminating the north face of Kailash, which was beautiful. A gradual 2 1/2 hour climb had me standing on the prayer flag decorated pass - the highest point of the trek at 5630 m/18,470′. The rest of the day was a slog along a river valley, with no real views of the mountain. I opted to bypass the standard stop for the second night and instead went all the way back to Darchen, making it a 32 km./20 mile day. By doing the kora once I’ve eliminated the sins of this lifetime, so I’ve got that going for me. If I do it 107 more times I’m guaranteed instant nirvana and I’ll eliminate all sins for all lifetimes. In all it was fairly average as far as treks go, but some of the stunning views of Kailash made it worthwhile. I’d like to do the 54 km./33.5 mile trek again - this time in one day, and in the pilgrim season for both Buddhists and Hindus. I find it interesting that Chinese try to make things easier - building chair lifts to mountain tops or opting to be carried up mountains in sedan chairs, while some Tibetans will actually prostrate around mountain koras. That’s a sight I’m hoping to witness next time. Back in Darchen a woman fed dried yak dung into the fire with her bare hands, and then immediately went back to preparing my meal - pinching the dough closed on my mo-mo’s. Thanks for that little extra seasoning!

Lake Manasarovar (Mapham Yum Tso)

The next morning I tried to find transportation going to Lake Manasarovar - one of Tibet’s four holy lakes. Nothing. “No problem, I’ll just walk the 6 kms. to the ‘main’ road and hitch a ride there.” No traffic. I ended up walking the 30 kms./18.5 miles to the lake. The place was like a ghost town - definitely out of season. There were some beautiful snow-capped mountains visible across the lake, and a picturesque monastery. The stars at night were also impressive with the lack of light pollution.

Back to Ali

I bared my cheeks to the cold while gazing at the sacred lake - a loo with a view, and then walked 10 kms. back to the main road. I sat there for hours waiting for a hitch, but there was no traffic. I then decided my best bet was to walk the remaining 20 kms. back to Darchen to try to find a lift, and so I set out. By this point I’d decided I’d take a hitch going either direction - either along the southern road back to Lhasa (my preference), or back to Ali where I’d catch the bus back to Lhasa. Eventually a large Chinese military truck came by and said they were going to Ali, so I hopped in. I was able to ride in the cab with the two soldiers rather than in the back, which seemed too good to be true. It was. After 3 hours we rolled into a small military compound and I was told it was the end of the line for me. I sat on my pack in the dusty road waiting for a lift. After two hours I saw the same military truck bolt out of a walled compound headed towards Ali. Bastards! I believe they wanted to strand me there so I’d be forced to pay them for accommodation, but I wasn’t playing that game - I walked a short distance and stayed with a Tibetan family.

Early the next morning I was back on my pack in the dusty road…waiting. A 20 year old soldier came out to practice his English for awhile. He’s been in the military for 5 years, and it’s basically a career choice. Glad I didn’t have to decide what I wanted to be at 15…or 38! Suffice it to say that when someone asks, “When was the last time you drank milk?”, that his repertoire of English words and phrases is reaching an end and the conversation will soon die. At 4:30, or 24 hours after being unceremoniously dumped, another military truck came by and said I could ride in back to Ali. Sold! It was pretty cold - after all this was November in Tibet at over 4000 m, and the maniac driving had me pinballing all around the back. Still, it was only 3 hours back to Ali, so easily bearable.

Back to Lhasa

I spent a day in Ali relaxing and organizing a bus ticket. I was told the bus left at 6 AM, but that I needed to be there at 5. It was a cold walk to the station at that hour, and I arrived to…no bus! I sat on the steps, wrapped in my sleeping bag trying to stay warm, for 4 1/2 hours. I finally decided that the blocks of ice that had been my feet needed thawing, and that the people selling the ticket must have meant 5 PM. Note to self - “If you ever teach English here, TEACH THEM HOW TO TELL TIME!” Day of killing time wasn’t a total waste, as I read the following, “May the breeze bring you the tenderness and warmth from me. Far from each other we may be. Yet still you are here at the bottom of my heart.” Tibetan Hallmark? Nope. The saying on a custard pie snack wrapper. Return bus trip to Lhasa went better than expected - we had very few breakdowns, I only had to share my bunk for 6 hours (and so only 24 hours of the 140 or so I was on those buses to/from Ali), and we stopped a few times to eat…a novel concept. In all it was a relatively painless, though tiring, 62-hour bus journey.

Norbulingka

A friend was in town, so we spent the next week on the go seeing sites. The first stop in Lhasa was the Norbulingka, the former summer home of the Dalai Lamas. There are various temples and palaces, including one built by the current before he fled from here in ‘59. The buildings are in a park-like setting of trees - a very popular picnic spot during the summer (and during the Shotun Festival in August). Most disturbing were all the video cameras, motion sensors, and seemingly fewer devotional offerings than I expected considering the historical significance of the place.

Courtyard of Prayer Wheels

One day behind the Jokhang we entered a courtyard, and first-floor walkway, built around a small gompa. Every available space was occupied by an elderly person - if lines on faces could talk, there were thousands of stories being shouted out in that small area. They smiled easily, stuck out their tongues as a sign of respect, and offered us places to sit. All of them had prayer wheels constantly in motion, while some also fingered prayer beads. All of this was done to the sound of the monks chanting, which was broadcast over speakers into the courtyard. It was magical. Some of them had arrived at 9 AM, but at 6 PM everybody packed away whatever they’d been sitting on - chairs, burlap bags, cardboard, styrofoam…to be used the following day. After a few weeks the group moved to a different gompa, so I followed. I never tired of simply sitting there in silence, taking it all in. Very genuine, and the kind of moment you dream of while traveling. It is by far my favorite experience in Lhasa.

Drepung Monastery

Next was Drepung Monastery, on the outskirts of Lhasa. It belongs to the Gelugpa sect of Tibetan Buddhism, and at one time housed up to 10,000 monks, making it the World’s largest monastery. Today that number is around 600 monks. As with all monasteries, Drepung is a collection of buildings (Drepung actually means ‘rice heap’, a reference to the many white monastic buildings that once covered the hillside) - monks quarters, palaces, assembly halls, and colleges. Many are ornately decorated in gleaming statues, thangkas (religious paintings), murals, banners, butter lamps, and other religious items. Assembly halls are huge, dark rooms with large support columns. Rows of cushions offer seats for the chanting monks. The dark, smoky interiors and the pious pilgrims in their traditional clothing makes one feel as if they’ve stepped back in time.

Nam Tso

We next hooked up with some other travelers and rented a Land Cruiser to Nam Tso, another of Tibet’s four holy lakes. It was incredible to see pilgrims prostrating along the road towards Lhasa, still 100 kms. distant. It was an auspicious year for the lake, so many pilgrims made their way to the small encampment. Even in the cold November air, with the wind whipping off the lake and it spitting snow, there were enough pilgrims bundled up in their chubas lined in sheep’s wool and fox-fur hats to make a truly memorable visit. The views across the huge, turquoise lake are impressive, with many snow-capped mountains topping 7000 m/23,000′. The lake itself sits at around 4700 m/15,500′. There was a small community of tents - those for sleeping and those selling goods, and even the requisite outdoor pool tables. We jumped in ‘line’ behind the pilgrims doing the small kora. It took about an hour to circle the small hill, stopping at temples and caves along the way. Most impressive were the colorful prayer flags streaming from the mountain down to two pillars of rock. Some pilgrims were prostrating around those rocks, while others prostrated around the entire kora. We climbed the hill and found a secluded spot to sit amongst the thousands of colorful prayer flags - snapping in the brisk wind and sending their written prayers to the heavens. The grazing yaks and drokpa tents on the nearby grasslands added that much more to an already impressive scene.

Ganden Monastery

The next site, Ganden Monastery, was 2 hours from Lhasa by pilgrim bus. The chanting of the pilgrims on the bus made up for the early start (6 AM) and the fact that they liked riding with the windows open - even in November. Ganden sits in a bowl near the top of a ridge, and was beautiful at sunrise. However, like many monasteries, there were many buildings still in ruins from destruction caused 40-50 years ago. We did both the high kora and low kora, which afforded fantastic views of various valleys. The low kora also had several shrines, rock carvings, and rocks that are rubbed for their healing properties or squeezed through to test one’s level of sin. There is also a sky burial site. Most impressive of the actual buildings was the one housing the tomb of Tsongkhapa, the revered founder of both the Gelugpa sect and Ganden Monastery. I enjoyed going through the various buildings with the many pilgrims. On the drive back to Lhasa I witnessed one of my favorite sights - approaching Lhasa from the East, you round a bend and see the massive Potala. However, at that point no other buildings are visible, and it seems as if the Potala is floating above the Lhasa River.

Lingkhor Kora

After my friend left I hung out most days with some travelers I’d met out West, simply talking over tea until the lights were flicked on and off at 11, indicating our time at that restaurant was up. I also did the Lingkhor, an 8 km. kora around what was the old city of Lhasa. Most impressive is an area of colorful rock carvings, where many pilgrims stop to prostrate and spin prayer wheels. Also interesting are the ‘rubbing stones’ found on a busy street corner. These are rocky outcrops said to have healing powers, grooved and worn smooth over time, where pilgrims rub their knees and back. One section of the kora is interesting for it’s contrasts - pilgrims in traditional outfits spinning prayer wheels while walking past new Chinese stores.

Drigung Til Monastery

My next foray out of Lhasa was a 5 hour bus ride to Drigung Til Monastery. After securing a storeroom as a place to spend the night, I set out wandering to check out the various buildings. I came across the ‘publication’ department - two guys sitting on the floor facing each other with a carved wooden print block between them. One would ink the block, the other would slap a sheet of paper down, the first would roll it, the second would remove the sheet. All performed very quickly. Following the kora provided nice views of the valley, and took me by the durtro - the holiest sky burial site in the Lhasa region. There were prayer flags and chortens, dogs, crows and smaller birds picking at what was left of the mornings offering, and monks cleaning the main area where the ceremony is performed. They indicated that there would be a ‘burial’ the following morning, and said it was OK to attend. I later checked with the family to ensure they were fine with my presence as well. Later, back outside the main assembly hall, the monks were sitting on the ground chanting, while family/friends of the deceased looked on and made offerings of money and bags of food.

The next morning I walked back up the hill to the burial site. Ala Pavlov’s dogs, “Tashi’s” vultures had been well conditioned and knew what was about to happen. Some of these lammergeiers - Tibetan bearded vultures, were already patiently waiting, while their brethren swooped in on 2+ m./7 + foot wingspans, flying so low above my head that I could hear the swoosh of the wind on their wings. Let me say this, about 200 of these massive, hungry birds is an impressive, if somewhat unsettling, sight. The family and friends of the deceased - maybe about 10-12 people, started arriving and were given an orientation by one of the monks. Next, the bodies arrived - turned out there were four of them, and they were placed in a large circle comprised of many stones. As this was happening 3 monks donned aprons and began sharpening their knives. The monks then approached the bodies and began cutting away the white linens and clothes. They used meat hooks to position and move the bodies, and threw them around unceremoniously. It was at that point one had to turn off their Western sensitivities and see this ritual through Tibetan eyes. That body we see being drug through rocks at the end of meat hooks is simply an empty vessel to the Tibetans. A ceremony is performed by monks for 3 days after someone’s death to help the spirit exit the body. That spirit then finds a new ‘vessel’ within the next 49 days. As sky burials are always performed at least 3 days after death, there is no longer a spirit, and thus it’s no longer a person.

Once the bodies were naked and turned face down the cutting began. Long incisions were made down the back, and cross cuts were performed to make the pieces smaller. The soles of the feet were sliced off, and then strips were cut from the legs, arms, and chest area. They also sliced a bit on the head - peeling back the hair, and cut into the stomach. While all this was going on the hundreds of vultures were growing impatient. They’d make a rush towards the circle, but those of us watching were to keep them at bay. However, at some point it became impossible, the dam burst, and all we - including the monks doing the cutting, could do was get out of the way and watch the feeding frenzy. These huge birds set upon the bodies, and each other, with zeal. There’s something surreal about standing mesmerized as 5 or 6 enormous vultures fight over some human flesh mere feet in front of you. A very powerful image. As the birds got their fill they’d turn their back on the scene, face the sun, and begin cleaning themselves. It’s a bit disturbing how quickly that many vultures can reduce us to mere skeletons - four bodies…10 minutes! That brings up the most important tip yet - Don’t fall asleep out in the open in vulture country! The monks gathered the bones, crushed those, and mixed the result with barley flour (tsampa), and the birds resumed eating. As I’d seen the previous afternoon, the crows and smaller birds would feed throughout the rest of the day, anything not eaten would be swept up and burned, and the site would be prepared to do it all again the following day.

It was an intense experience, with imagery I’ll never forget. I’m sure some of you are shaking your heads in bewilderment, as no doubt you have at passages in previous updates, and asking yourself, “Why?”. I’ll simply restate something I’ve said in the past…This is why I travel. This is an integral part of Tibetan culture, and seen with the correct mindset one actually feels privileged to have witnessed such an event.

Sera Monastery

Back in Lhasa I next checked out Sera Monastery - also on the outskirts of town. I immediately liked the ‘feel’ of Sera - clean, narrow, winding walkways; trees; pilgrims; and monks. I went into many of the buildings and colleges, and stumbled upon monks constructing a 3 foot diameter sand mandala for an upcoming festival. It was amazing what detail could be created simply using colored sand. I also observed the monks debating, which is always lively and entertaining. A gravel courtyard was filled with monks - some standing, most sitting. Those standing would address 3-5 monks sitting in front of him. He’d say something, do a theatrical wind-up of his arms, and then slap his hands together for emphasis. Some discussions were quite animated, and it was fun to watch, and hear, an entire courtyard of this activity. I finished my Sera experience by walking the nice kora with some pilgrims.

Palden Lhamo Festival

The Palden Lhamo Festival in 2003 fell on December 8th. Palden Lhamo is the protective deity of the Jokhang Temple, so the Barkhor was filled with pilgrims and the air was thick with the smell of burning juniper. You can always tell when it’s a festival day in Lhasa as there are fire trucks parked in Barkhor Square. The line to enter the Jokhang wrapped around the Barkhor for a few bends. As it started moving, people would try to cut in, so those of us in line took to making a conga line and holding onto the person in front of us. The little old lady behind me alternated from resting her hands on my butt, to putting them up the back of my coat for warmth, to resting her head on my back. We eventually made it into the courtyard of the Jokhang, where various deities were on display. A good first glimpse into the increased devotion during festival time.

A J…J…J…Jo…Jo…Job!

December 8th also marked my first day of teaching English. I’ve since taught some beginning English, though I usually teach to those with a bit more ability. I’ve taught at a private school (now in my second term), at a government research institute, the university, and some private lessons. Students have ranged in age from 8-40, though most are in their 20’s. It’s certainly had it’s moments, but in general it’s something I enjoy doing - made easier by the fact that people are pretty keen to learn the language. My biggest challenge is to teach the women stall owners selling souvenirs to say something besides, “Lookie, lookie”, and “I cheap”, and “I love you”. OK, I actually like that last one.

Tsongkhapa Festival

A week before Christmas there were more fire trucks parked in Barkhor Square - another festival. This was the Butter Lamp, or Tsongkhapa, Festival, held on the anniversary of his death. There were many butter lamps on the roof of the Jokhang and in windows of most buildings around the Barkhor, and the large incense burners were working overtime. The Barkhor was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people, but it was fun jostling around the kora in such a festive atmosphere.

House Visits

Shortly afterwards I promised a student I’d go to his house. Why was I invited? His 70 year old grandfather had never seen a foreigner…step right up, check out the tall, bald, foreign freak! I guess everybody has to serve a purpose - mine is as a curiosity in a circus sideshow. Actually it was a good day - as all visits to homes of friends here in Lhasa turn out to be. They usually provide bottomless cups of butter tea and snacks - forcing you to eat/drink if you haven’t in the past minute! You become a slave to their hospitality. We sat around talking, watching the standard Tibetan music VCD’s, drinking a lot of butter tea, and I was presented a huge plate of yak meat and a hunting knife and told to dig in.

Mt. Everest (Qomolangma) Trip

A friend arrived on Christmas day, so we spent a few days hitting the standard sites in/around town - Barkhor, Jokhang, Potala, Sera, and Ganden. We next joined up with a couple others for a 5-day Land Cruiser trip. Our first site out of Lhasa was Yamdrok Tso, another of the four holy lakes. It was nice - turquoise surrounded by peaks which had been dusted with fresh snow the night before. Mountains and lakes were the norm for most of that scenic drive to Gyantse. After checking out the Kumbum we were back in the Land Cruiser and headed to Shigatse, where we spent that first night. The next day we checked out Tashilhunpo Monastery and then hit the road. There wasn’t much of note that day, as it was dark by the time we passed the best scenery. We stayed that night in a great little village - Tashi Dzom, where we simply hung out in the small restaurant of our guesthouse and watched the locals watch t.v. Like most small villages during that time of year, many homes had wood, brush, and drying yak dung on their roofs to be used as winter fuel.

My original plan had been to sleep at Rongphu Monastery, a mere 8 kms. from Everest basecamp and with stunning views of the north face, on the night of December 31st. We could then usher in the New Year by gazing on ‘The Goddess Mother of the Earth’ in the morning sun. Unfortunately that idea was nixed by the driver, as there were no other cars at the monastery to help if our Land Cruiser wouldn’t start. In light of the minor car problems we encountered every morning that was probably best, but it meant we’d check out the highest point on earth on the last day of the year instead of the first. It was a short 2 1/2 hour drive from Tashi Dzong to basecamp (5200 m/17,060′), and we had the place to ourselves. At that time of year basecamp is simply a flat, rocky area with a tea house and post office - both deserted. The summit was cloud-covered when we arrived, but eventually cleared to reveal the entire north face. The Tibetan side is better than the Nepali side in that there are no other mountains obscuring the view. It was disappointing in that the skies weren’t blue, but were overcast/cloud-covered, meaning no good pictures. Still, it’s nice to have seen the highest point on earth from a few different angles. We spent about 3 hours there walking around and gazing on the scene. I’d like to go back sometime for better pictures and to wander a bit farther afield.

Retracing our route, passing back through Tashi Dzong, climbing a high pass, and looking back over our shoulder revealed the beautiful panorama we’d missed by passing in the dark the previous night. There was Everest, along with the other snow-capped Himalayan giants, spread out before us. Beautiful.

Sakya Monastery

That night was spent in Lhatse, and the next morning we made a detour off the main road to see Sakya Monastery. The buildings of Sakya are unique in that they aren’t whitewashed, but instead are ash gray in color with vertical red and white stripes. Most impressive was the main assembly hall - dark and mysterious, with some beautiful murals and huge Buddha statues which also contain remains of previous Sakya Abbots. I really enjoyed Sakya and will go back when I can spend more time to do it justice - visiting the older ruins across the river as well.

Another night in Shigatse and seeing several sacred black-necked cranes rounded out our trip back to Lhasa. In all it’s a good trip - the ’standard’ trip that most who visit Tibet take, as you get monasteries, mountains, and lakes.

Now That’s a Painting!

The Lhasa museum houses the Guinness-recognized world’s largest thangka, and it’s impressive! It took 400+ artists 3 years to paint the 2.5 m X 618+m painting. It shows Tibetan history, kings, Dalai Lamas (to the 13th), Panchen Lamas (to the 10th), Karmapas (the section showing the 17th was folded back out of public view since he fled to India in ‘99. Doh!), Bon history, Buddhist deities, and mandalas. Incredible detail.

Sera Festival

One day a student and I headed towards Sera for a festival. I say ‘towards’ because we got nowhere close in the bus. We stood in the long line with everyone else, and again I was amazed at why some people think they’re better than others and so cut in line. For some reason I’ve always believed Tibetans should be above that. Not! There were some cops and monks on hand to keep that to a minimum and to keep some semblance of order, though I thought the cops were a bit rough on occasion - punching, kicking, and shoving. It took us 2 1/2 hours to reach the point where the buses normally drop off passengers, and another hour to reach the courtyard of Sera Je college. There we handed a katha to a monk who added them to a pile, and other monks made us lower our heads below that of the lama as he touched us quickly on the head with a phurbu…which sounds lewd and I believe is against the law in 43 States! It’s actually a ritual dagger that was wrapped in gold cloth and is only brought out once a year. The blessing is meant to instill good luck and health for the upcoming year. There were butter sculptures; and a huge, beautiful thangka. It was an interesting insight into Tibetan life. With that many people gathered in one place, of course there were many beggars - the funniest being a young kid who I was told was telling Tibetans, “Give me money and you’ll become white.”

Losar (New Years) Festival

A few days later I was on the roof of the Jokhang - one of my favorite places to hang out. As part of the upcoming Losar celebration, I was able to watch them cut the old prayer flags from the two large poles in front of the Jokhang, and hang new ones. While they were doing this some monks on the roof with me were blowing various horns - and they had an audience of one as I was the only non-monk up there. After the new flags were strung a large pile of juniper was burned in the square.

Losar proper started a few days later, on February 21st. At 1 AM I went to the Barkhor to see what was going on, and discovered that the line to get into the Jokhang wrapped all the way around the Barkhor - the longest I had ever seen it. I opted not to stand in line and wait. Later that morning I was back at the Barkhor. None of the stalls were actually filled with goods they were trying to sell, so I simply sat on one and watched the procession of people as they walked past in their finest outfits. There were all manner of fox fur hats, chubas (traditional robe-like outfit with over-sized sleeves) hemmed with otter fur, beautiful silky chubas, and lots of turquoise and coral jewelry and hair ornaments. Those who don’t choose to wear chubas the rest of the year still do on the first day of Losar, so it was a great sight as the people were out to see and to be seen. Later that day I was invited to a student’s house, which was nice considering the first day of Losar is usually just spent with family. I first went to their altar for chima - a pinch of tsampa tossed in the air three times, and then a small amount eaten. As with all altars at Losar there were breads, candies, fruits, butter, barley, a ceramic goat head, molasses, sugar, and other items as offerings. Back in the main room the table was also filled with standard Losar foods - dried yak meat, cooked (but now cold) yak and sheep meat, candies, a butter and cheese dessert, fruits, and nuts. I was given a bowl of the traditional Losar breakfast ’soup’ - a salty yak meat and barley mixture. Next, I was given a drink/soup of chang (barley beer), tsampa (barley flour), molasses, and cheese. A very strange, very sweet brew. Beer and chang rounded out my visit. It was nice to have a more intimate look at Losar with such a great family.

The following two-week celebration followed the same pattern - there were parties at restaurants, and more intimate parties at the homes of various friends. The drinking of beer and chang was also a common theme. The best part was when 2-3 people - usually women, would approach you with a bowl full of chang. They’d stand in front of you and sing you a song in Tibetan. When they finished you were expected to drink the entire bowl in one go.

One night I was in my room when a friend came by to bring me traditional Losar snacks and a thermos of butter tea. Later, as I was reading Seven Years in Tibet, which I’d borrowed from another friend; eating Tibetan snacks; and drinking butter tea from my silver-lined cup I’d bought on the Barkhor, it hit me…I was in Lhasa, during Losar, and that my life is not normal. Who knew? Very lucky person.

Some of the old Losar traditions are no longer allowed - or aren’t nearly as large. Those included the Butter Festival, where huge butter sculptures were paraded around the Barkhor; and the Great Prayer Festival (Monlam), during which monks from Lhasa’s three main monasteries used to gather in the Jokhang. However, during the last couple days of Losar I did see some monks in the Jokhang chanting during a ceremony. I then witnessed another one outdoors where the monks wore ornate headgear over black wigs, a gold robe, and had their bells in their hand. They were chanting, facing the lama, who was dumping various grains and liquids into a fire as offerings to usher in a good year. I really enjoyed the Losar festivities - it was one of the main reasons I wanted to stay in Lhasa over the winter. As there are more pilgrims during the winter - and few tourists, it’s a great time to be there. In fact, as one of the few foreigners there that winter I came to think of Lhasa as ‘mine’, and found that I resented the intrusion of the tourists as the season started.

Rats

Another friend arrived near the end of Losar. We didn’t do any trips together, but spent many late nights hanging out in restaurants/bars drinking and watching rats. Rats, you say? Rats, I repeat. I’ve watched a cat kill a rat and parade it through the restaurant, an owner kill a rat, and an owner’s dog chase a rat through the restaurant - all while I’ve been eating. I’ve watched a rat race across the floor, up a table leg, and race through two plates of food. The look on the Japanese diners face as what he’d just seen race under his fork slowly registered was worth the price of admission. However, the mother of all rat venues is a place that we now affectionately deem ‘The Rat Palace’, or ‘The Running Rat’. There are cloth ceilings in one room, and no matter how many times you’ve been there and know the place is swarming with rats, you still halt your conversation briefly when you see the cloth bounce while the rats do laps above your head. They also seem conditioned, becoming more visible after the posted 11:30 closing time. How do I know? Because we spent many nights there until 3 AM, watching rats on tables, rats running up posts, and rats chasing each other across the floor. Very entertaining.

Nangmas

Our other late-night entertainment…to the tune of 3, 4, 5, or 6 in the morning, was to go to a nangma. These are huge, darkened rooms with a stage, dance floor, and tables and booths scattered about. Nangmas are ‘traditional’ Tibetan entertainment, that are now some bastardized performance that defies description. There are various performers - some singing Tibetan songs, others Chinese, a few Hindi, and even a rare English tune. There are dance numbers with performers in long-sleeved traditional Tibetan outfits - sometimes with Tibetan instruments as props. There are comedy skits. And sometimes it even turns into a disco for a few songs. There is a lot of alcohol consumed - usually beer downed a shot glass at a time, and the waitresses come by and refill and ask you to do it again immediately. Drunk patrons get up to dance - sometimes it’s an organized line dance, but more often than not they choose to slow dance…no matter the tempo of the song. As in the rest of the world, you see a lot of women dancing together, but here you’ll also often see men dancing together. For late-night entertainment value it’s hard to beat a nangma.

Sacred Cave Complex

During the off-season it’s quite easy to go everywhere in Tibet, as the authorities don’t really care about permits. It’s too cold for them to stand outside and worry about so few tourists. However, I found out that wasn’t the case in early May. I was at the bus stand in front of the Jokhang early in the morning, but people seemed reluctant to take me. I then had a guy make a ‘gun’ with his thumb and forefinger, and then rub his thumb and fingers together in the ‘money’ sign. I understood. As we were going someplace where I technically needed a permit, they’d get stopped and fined by PSB - the police. After getting on, and getting kicked off, a few buses I finally found one driver willing to chance it.

The bus headed east and I got off in a little village about 2 hours and 45 minutes from Lhasa. I walked with some pilgrims down to the river to board a ferry - a ferry overflowing with people, various goods, a man and his yak, and a rototiller/tractor with cart…complete with a calf in the back. The river crossing took about 1 1/2 hours, during which the driver was drinking beer - perhaps as training to someday captain a tanker like the Exxon Valdez. On the other side I initially bypassed the touts with tractors and set out walking through the sand dunes to the small village of Drak, where I checked out the small monastery and took some pictures of the locals. I then boarded one of the tractor transports for the bumpy ride up to Ngadrak, with a stop at another sacred pond/monastery along the way.

After securing a place to sleep for the night in a small shop, I set out exploring. I climbed a nearby hill, examined the ruined fortress, and admired the views. That night I ‘talked’, via a lot of gestures interspersed with a rare Chinese/Tibetan word, to the owners of the shop and the many pilgrims (I was the only foreigner around). As would be the norm over the next few days I was shown great hospitality - offered food, tea, chang (barley beer), beer, etc. Now, you’d think that if locals came to a shop, saw two pilgrims trying to sleep on the floor, and me in a bed, that they’d leave. You’d be wrong. They came in, sat on my bed, and drank, talked, and laughed with the owners until it was late. I didn’t get a lot of sleep because we were all up at 2 AM.

After eating a bit we hit the trail around 3, and there were at least 40 of us. I soon passed everyone and at 5:30 found myself alone at the massive cave entrance of Dzong Kumbum. For the next 3 1/2 hours I explored the caves - winding passages, subterranean rivers, and crawling through small passages to reach lakes. It was surreal, and interesting to do it alone. I figured it would be chaos with so many pilgrims doing it at the same time. I headed down and was back in Ngadrak at 11:30. I hung out the rest of the day - visiting the gompa, ‘talking’ to other pilgrims, and taking pictures of many kids. That evening numerous locals came to the open window of the shop to see the foreigner, and I’d entertain them. I think I was good for business as most of the village paraded by, but would buy something small from the shop so as to make their voyeurism less obvious. Most of the other pilgrims wearily hobbled back to Ngadrak between 6 and 8:30 - a long day for them.

At 5 the next morning I stumbled out to the adjacent field for morning duty and noticed that the full moon of the previous night was now partially covered and reddish in color - an eclipse. Everyone else jumped in tractors at 6 AM but I opted to walk, and caught up with everybody just over an hour later at a nunnery. We set out from there, but I soon was in the lead again and found myself alone at the entrance to another cave complex - Drak Yong Dzong. This time I opted to wait for others to arrive so as to experience the cave with the pilgrims. After everyone from my ‘group’ finally arrived and had had their tea/snacks we set out for the showpiece cave, and one of the 5 principle power places of Tibet. As the cave opening is about 8 meters above the ground we had to climb almost vertical wooden ladders - the rungs helped to stay in place by animal-hide lashings….sometimes with the hair still attached. I ended up hanging on that ladder at about 6 meters for 20 minutes as those ahead of me overcame their fears and the bottleneck ahead of them. It gave me far too long to notice that the ladder was simply supported against the rock wall by a few small, unstable stones. Next it was through a narrow rock chute only large enough for one person. You simply pulled yourself up via a rope. After negotiating the long chute it was a near-vertical descent down another rickety, wooden ladder. The cave wouldn’t be allowed visitors in America in it’s current state - old, wooden ladders; no safety precautions; no lights except what you carried; no barriers protecting large voids; and cramming too many people into slippery and enclosed areas. And these people feel extremely privileged to endure such hardships. We crawled into a small area where Guru Rinpoche meditated for 3 years, 3 months, and 3 days. All caves of the area are associated with him, and are also beyuls, or hidden valleys that will be sanctuaries for Tibetans in times of crisis. The pilgrims were fun to watch in their devotion. After a long walk back to the village where I was staying I had a few hours to contemplate what I’d seen before the others arrived.

The next morning we awoke to fresh snow, which made the surroundings beautiful. We caught tractors for the 1 hour trip to the river where we overloaded ferries for the journey to the other side. The pilgrims showed their normal hospitality, offering me candy, potatoes, dried yak, and chang during the crossing. After trying to flag down a passing share taxi - only to be denied again by the PSB excuse, I jumped into a bus. This turned out to be a stroke of luck, as it was a pilgrim bus and would make a few more stops at monasteries (one via another ferry crossing of the river) on the way back to Lhasa. At the last monastery I ran into a monk who spoke English, so he showed me about. Most amusing was a display case with what he termed ‘old’ statues. The door edges were covered in seals, which he said the government stuck there to make sure nobody steals or damages the statues. This would be the same government that systematically destroyed 6000 monasteries and destroyed/looted all of the statues, murals, and other religious relics. These were simply a handful of items that they’d missed.

In all the 4-day trip was one of the better ones I took in Tibet - I spent time with locals, off the beaten tourist routes, and visited places sacred to Tibetans. It was all very genuine.

Saga Dawa

The 15th day of the 4th lunar month (the 15th on the Tibetan calendar is always a full moon) marks the date of the present Buddha’s birth, enlightenment, and entry into nirvana. Tibetans in Lhasa mark the occasion by walking the 8-km/5-mile Lingkhor circuit around what was the old city. I met some friends and we were on the circuit by 6 AM. There were quite a few chanting people, with prayer wheels and prayer beads. There really wasn’t much talking, but a lot of fast walking. Enterprising people were out selling prayer beads; sang (juniper for the large incense burners, which were belching smoke continually); balloons with prayer flag tails to be released into the air; cold drinks; and food. The beggars were also out in record numbers - lining one entire street at least 3 people deep on both sides. Unfortunately, the best part of the kora (religious circuit), which passes by some rock carvings, was closed, as there were too many people for such a narrow path. We finished the kora in just over 2 hours, and it was great to feel the energy and tradition while rubbing shoulders with the locals. But wait…I wasn’t done. I’d promised various friends that I’d walk the kora with them that day, so at 10 I found myself ready to start again, this time with a guy who’d painted me some beautiful traditional thangkas (religious paintings). There were even more people on the kora at that time. I’d been told by people that it was considered unlucky to walk the kora an even number of times, so it was fortunate that I had another circuit planned, my third of the day - this time at 6 with another friend. Note to self - if I’m ever back in Lhasa during Saga Dawa, organize friends ahead of time so as to only make one circuit!

Samye Cham

Once again I boarded a bus in Lhasa bound for someplace where I technically needed a permit, so they tried to kick me off. I smiled and held firm, and they eventually gave up and started driving. I was headed to Samye, founded around 770 and thus the oldest monastery in Tibet. After 4 hours we neared Samye and I felt part of something big, with Tibetans arriving by buses, trucks, and tractors. The place had a carnival-like atmosphere. I, along with everyone else, was there for a festival and to see cham, which is a ritual dance performed over several days by monks and lamas. The dancing monks wear elaborate, colorful masks, and dance to the sound of trumpets, horns, drums, and cymbals.

After negotiating for a bed in a tent perched on a roof, I set out to do some exploring. I first climbed a small hill, Hepo Ri, near the monastery. It offered fantastic views down to the mandala-shaped monastic complex, as well as views of the surrounding river and countryside. I next wandered through the camping area, which was littered with Tibetan-style tents - white cloth with Buddhist designs. There were people selling all manner of goods, restaurant tents, the requisite gambling, and a stage for amateur song and dance performances. The entire event had a county-fair atmosphere to it, with everyone wandering from place to place to see what was happening. Of course everybody visited the various buildings of the monastery to make their offerings, walked the koras, climbed Hepo Ri to throw juniper into the various burners, and played pool on the requisite outdoor tables. Nights were spent sitting in tents with friends and family, drinking, playing games, talking, and staying out of the rain.

The following day everyone arrived early to stake out a prime seat in front of the main monastery. At 9 the ceremony began, to the excitement of the crowd. Monk performers in large, brightly colored masks entered the performance area to the sound of horns blowing and cymbals crashing. The performance that day lasted about 8 hours, though I only stayed for 6. I’d seen cham dancing before - in Ladakh, and as before found myself dividing my attention between the performers onstage and watching the pilgrims in attendance.

As had been the case the previous night, the monks were practicing on their horns until 1:30. I had to get up at 3:45, which meant I didn’t get a lot of sleep. Why was I up so early? To check out the hermitage of Chimpuk. After a standard fiasco - loading into one truck, waiting, and then reloading into another, at 4:30 we were ready to leave. We were packed like standing sardines into the back of a large truck, but at least the body heat kept the chill off. Only a few of us were actually tall enough to grab the overhead bars for support - the rest simply ’sloshed’ with the movement of the truck over the rough dirt track. It got tiring trying to hold back the tidal crush of shorter Tibetans. Still, not all were appreciative of my efforts. As the bodies would pile into me and force me onto some poor little woman, I’d hear her grunt and then utter something, which would invariably contain the word ‘chigay’, or foreigner. I was happy the ride only lasted an hour. At the end of the line we set out hiking up a mountain dotted with caves, temples, retreats, and prayer flags. I decided to escape the crowds and climb to the top of the peak, and was rewarded with some spectacular views. On the way down I opted for a cross-country direct descent - scaring the hell out of a nun in retreat. Guess she didn’t expect company from above.

After walking all the way back to Samye I packed and jumped on a bus - destination Lhasa. And there I sat…for almost 2 hours while the driver tried to round up enough people so we could leave. Continuing my perfect run that trip (I’d paid the local price for the bus to Samye, was never checked for the required permit, secured a place to sleep, and enjoyed the genuine festival) I was again charged the local price, and even though I didn’t have the necessary permits I was allowed to go see Trandruk Monastery, with its famous thangka made from 29,000 pearls. We also visited Yumbulagang - Tibet’s first building. I was pleased to be able to visit both, as travelers sans permit are usually kicked off the bus in the town of Tsetang. The bus goes to the aforementioned sites without them and then picks them up on the way back through town headed towards Lhasa.

Drigung Powa Chemo

Another early start in Lhasa, as this time I was on a bus at 3:30 in the morning. Unfortunately the bus was only 3/4 full, and because there were many buses, we spent the next 1 1/2 hours cruising the streets looking to fill the remaining seats. Why was I up so early, and why were there so many buses? The Powa Chemo at Drigung Til Monastery - a teaching that happens once every 12 years. It took us 3 1/2 hours to get there, and I arrived to an amazing scene. The valley floor was filled with tents, and more people were arriving all the time via bus, car, pilgrim truck, tractor, and horse. I initially opted to climb the hill up to the monastery and do the kora with many pilgrims. As I’d see throughout the event, there were people from all over Tibet in their regions traditional dress. From the hill it was amazing to see the valley floor as a sea of white tents. I could also see that they’d hung a large thangka in the compound below, so I descended to check that out. The atmosphere was like a Tibetan Woodstock - rain, mud, and tens of thousands of people, but with monks instead of musicians. I wandered through the tent village, saw all the tents selling various goods, and saw long lines of people waiting to enter various monk tents to be blessed. I really enjoyed mucking through the mud to take it all in, and then sitting on a small hill for hours for an overall perspective. Everybody I met was very happy and friendly - it was the genuine Tibet. That evening I went into the compound to watch people present khatas (white ceremonial scarves) and to listen to the monks chant. I then proceeded back up the hill, found a secluded spot, and used my plastic and rope, which I’d bought for this purpose, to make a shelter for the night.

Early the next morning I broke ‘camp’ and then headed farther uphill to witness another sky burial. There were fewer vultures and more people watching than last time - more of a circus feel. I then descended to the valley floor and walked about 4 kms. outside of the village to where everybody was gathered for a teaching. I enjoyed simply sitting on my pack and watching the parade of people pass by after the teaching ended at noon. Shortly afterwards it started to rain, again, so I joined the throng heading back to the encampment. One had to jump across various small tributaries, negotiate a small bridge, and wade through the mud - all of this elbow-to-elbow. You were simply carried along by the pulsing crowd. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the rain wandering about. I will say this, that valley is going to be extremely lush, as there was human fertilizer everywhere! It made it extremely difficult to find a place to set up my plastic shelter for the night.

Many Tibetan festivals have been eliminated or radically changed. The Powa Chemo had been outlawed for several years, but was allowed again in 1992. However, this year’s event was pared from the standard 7 or more days down to 3. The last day was another teaching in the morning, so I headed back out to the site of the event through a constant drizzle. There were already thousands there, huddled under umbrellas, plastic, or simply bearing the elements. The lama arrived, and people immediately began throwing khatas towards his throne. The teaching/prayer commenced, and I walked around, taking it all in. Then, before I knew it, everybody was up and walking back to the encampment - event over. I’d really like to know how much had been eliminated.

I enjoyed my 3 days there, as it was a genuine event. There was no big-city cheating going on, but just honest transactions. Many pilgrims were there from small villages, and I always find them to be very pure of heart - always smiling. Nobody let the constant rain and deep mud put a damper on their enjoyment. I’d say it’s one of the best, most genuine, large-scale festivals I’ve ever attended, and I felt honored to be there.

Ganden Thangka Festival

The next must-see event on my list had me on a bus for the 1 3/4 hour trip to Ganden Monastery. Ganden is considered one of the Big Three monasteries of Tibet, but was virtually destroyed during artillery fire and bombing in ‘59 and ‘66. It is undergoing extensive rebuilding, but that can’t hide the many ruins. As I’d opted to arrive a day before the festival, I spent that day walking the kora and sitting on a hill overlooking the monastery and the surrounding valleys. At about 3 in the morning I was awoken from under my plastic to the sounds of buses, trucks, and cars negotiating the many switchbacks up to the monastery - the masses were arriving. Most people opted to leave early from Lhasa and thereby avoid spending a night at Ganden. I walked the kora again with the newly-arrived throngs, and then found a rooftop where I would have a good view of the proceedings. There were people everywhere, and the hills seemed to be on fire with all the smoke from the burning juniper offerings. As more and more Tibetans gathered in the open spaces below me, many took to throwing khatas against the wall of the assembly hall, where the great thangka would be hung. They were trying to get them to stick as high on the wall as possible. Horns and cymbals heralded the arrival of the great thangka, as the rolled painting was carried by a snake-like procession of monks and pilgrims to the base of the wall. Monks on the roof of the assembly hall lowered ropes, which were attached to the massive painting, the thangka was lifted onto the wall, and the protective curtain was lifted to reveal the image of Buddha. I imagine the religious painting must have been about 15 meters by 30 meters in size, and was beautiful. As soon as it was hung, pilgrims threw more khatas towards it, and then seemed to head for the many buses waiting to return to Lhasa. In fact, the thangka was only hanging for about 30 minutes. I don’t know if that is standard, or if they were afraid it would get rained on, but it was a pretty short-lived event.

Nagchu Horse Racing Festival

A week later I was back on the bus - this time for the 4 1/2 hour trip to Nagchu. I made my way to the burgeoning tent city and started to set up my home on the outskirts - in the rain. Are you seeing a theme here? Every festival I went to in July and August was a rain-soaked, muddy affair. I headed into Nagchu, decided it’s probably one of the ugliest towns I’ve ever seen, and vowed to spend the rest of my time in the tent city near the stadium. I met up with some other travelers, and so spent most of my time in Nagchu with an Israeli couple, a French couple, a South African woman, and a Dutch guy. We seemed to spend a lot of time moving from one restaurant tent to the next….eating, drinking, talking, and laughing. We checked out the standard offering of games, with the most popular being one where you rolled bicycle tires into an area that had a grid of prizes. If the tire fell completely around the prize, you took it home. Cooking pots seemed to be the big mover in that event. The most interesting moment before the actual horse racing happened while we were wandering around one day. A woman ran up to us, smiled, shook our hands, and proceeded to walk with us. It was only when she started yelling at people, throwing rocks at them, pushing them down in the mud, crying, and breaking beer bottles that we realized she was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. We believe she was ‘protecting’ us from anyone that approached or looked at us, but we could do without that kind of protection, and so lost her as quickly as possible.

The morning of the opening ceremony I bought a ticket - which, suffice it to say, was not nearly as easy as it sounds. There were many people in town, and many dressed in traditional outfits. I joined the throng of people trying to enter the stadium, itself a disappointment. I thought everything would simply take place on the grasslands as in the past. Anyway, there were a lot of police and military - some in riot gear, but they didn’t know the first thing about crowd control. I was in a packed mass, kids were screaming as they got crushed, and you had little control over where you went - you were simply pushed along. I finally got to the stadium entrance, only to be told by an armed soldier in riot gear that I wasn’t allowed and that I should go back. There’s no way I could have gone against the crush of people, so I simply gave him a dirty look and walked past him into the arena. The opening ceremony had various groups parading around the track, including PSB and military with guns, dance troupes, monks, people dressed in yak costumes, motorcyclists, and horsemen. There were some speeches, brief demonstrations by the horsemen, and a performance by dancers in the extra-long sleeved traditional shirts. The latter seemed to bring on the rain, so most people took the opportunity to leave the stadium.

The following day there weren’t nearly as many people trying to cram into the stadium, so I assume most opt to attend the opening ceremony and then show up again towards the end of the week-long festival. With the lack of people, we moved out of the stands and instead sat on the infield. First up were the shooters, who would gallop, twirl a long rifle above their heads, and then try to regain control of it - and their horse, in time to make a shot on a target. Nobody scored a hit, but they seemed to still be having fun - as was the crowd. Next up were the riders galloping along a line of white khatas. They’d lean as far off the horse as possible in order to drag a hand along the ground to pick up as many white scarves as they could - earning about $1.10 for each successful grab. Again, this portion of the program wasn’t without mishaps, as riders fell off their steeds or ran into other riders.

That afternoon there were song and dance performances on the stage which, as a backdrop had a painted picture containing Tibetans in traditional outfits, a Tibetan tent, mountains, cattle grazing on the grasslands, a rainbow, an image of an ultra-modern train, and a large Chinese flag.

As Nagchu is in an area of grasslands, I’d decided the ol’ plastic-and-rope shelter wasn’t going to cut it, so I’d opted to rent a tent. That night while we were out and about it started raining, so we high-tailed it back to our shelters. The rain/hail stung my face as I ran, and I was soaking wet by the time I ducked into the shelter. For the next hour my tent was basically doubled over by the wind, and the heavy rain blasted it’s way in through the rain fly and tent. When it let up I realized that my tent was now worth much more, as it now contained an indoor pool with over an inch of water. I also had to push some of the walls back into position, as they were being collapsed by the accumulation of hail. It was an extremely long, cold, wet night - probably my worst ever in a tent.

Shotun Festival

The Shotun, or yogurt festival, got under way bright and early at 4 AM one morning as I hopped a bus headed for Drepung Monastery on the outskirts of Lhasa. I scouted out some rooftop vantage points in the dark and then hunkered down to await the start. Flitting lights on the hillside across the ravine looked like fireflies, as all the people with flashlights tried to find a spot from which to take in the festivities. Around 7 AM monks with horns passed, and groups of monks hung the ubiquitous red, white, and blue plastic on a large hillside frame. Another procession of monks soon followed - some with banners, others with drums, and many shouldering the large, white, snake-like rolled thangka. To the accompaniment of horns the thangka was slowly raised into position over the frame and the protective curtain obscuring the Buddha image was pulled aside. The thangka was enormous - about 30 meters square. People proceeded to walk by and throw khatas on the thangka, while the air was thick with smoke from all the juniper offerings. I followed the Tibetans around the kora, and then relaxed in the grass watching them eat, drink, and enjoy the celebration.

An hour’s walk had me on a tractor transport headed to Sera Monastery - also on the outskirts of Lhasa. As had been the case at Drepung, the road near the monastery was closed, requiring that one walk for about 30 minutes to actually reach the monastic area. I tried to skirt the ticket booth by a shortcut that I knew, but was caught. I told the guy that it was crazy to charge me on a festival day - especially since I wasn’t going to enter any of the buildings (I’d seen them several times before). He wouldn’t back down, so I simply turned around and walked away. I wasn’t in the mood to give to the government that day, so I walked down the road a ways, climbed a mountain for about an hour, and dropped down into the monastery from behind - free admission. Again, I was there to see a large thangka on display, and to mingle with the devout Tibetans on this day of celebrations.

The following day I read that the/a Panchen Lama had been in Lhasa the day before. He had performed a dawn ceremony at the Jokhang Temple. Talk about your suspicious deals. He was brought in early in the morning, on a day when most Tibetans were actually out of the city for the beginning of the Shotun festival. I later heard from somebody that saw coverage on TV, and they said all pictures were close-ups. That would be because a wide-angle shot would have revealed no true Tibetans in attendance. I sometimes wonder if people actually believe they’re fooling anybody with such blatant trickery and propaganda. Crazy. Most Tibetans I talked to didn’t know he’d been in Lhasa. Not that it would have mattered much, as in their eyes he isn’t the recognized Panchen Lama, anyway. The Panchen Lama’s are spiritual leaders second only to the Dalai Lama in importance in Tibetan Buddhism. The 10th Panchen Lama died in 1989, after trying to tread a thin line between honoring his culture/people and obeying the Chinese government - he spent 14 years in prison. As with all incarnate lama’s, his successor had to be ‘found’. Information was smuggled out to the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government in exile, in Dharamsala, India, and 6 years later a six-year-old boy was recognized as the 11th Panchen Lama. China was not amused. Within a month the boy had been forcibly relocated to a government compound in Beijing. He remains under house arrest to this day, with his whereabouts unknown. An irate Chinese government then ordered the senior lamas of Tashilhunpo to come up with a second, Chinese-approved choice.

A few days later I walked out to the Norbulingka - the former summer home of the Dalai Lamas, for lhamo, or Tibetan opera. I only lasted about an hour, as in my mind the event did nothing except illustrate greed and complete lack of respect for traditional culture. First, the event has historically been held according to the lunar calendar. However, it was determined that fixed dates on a western calendar were better, so starting this year it will always begin on August 18th. Next, an entrance fee was charged, with no goodwill shown for festivals. Once inside it was obvious that certain vendors had preferential treatment - most likely by prices being set too high for others. There was a stage for lhamo, but on either side, and throughout the compound, there were beer gardens with women in short skirts/shorts - pretty disrespectful. There were so many vendors blaring music or making sales pitches over microphones that it destroyed any atmosphere, and I once again felt sorry for the loss of tradition.

Now, as bad as the lhamo was at the Norbulingka, I found another venue in the park behind the Potala Palace, the Lukhang. There were only Tibetans present, and it seemed much more genuine - more the way I imagined it would/should be.

General

When I wasn’t attending festivals I was still teaching at various places, and I also had some private lessons. I was able to do some hikes near Lhasa to visit smaller monasteries, and to climb up some of the surrounding peaks. It’s invigorating to be able to do a nice 10-hour hike right from your hotel, get up to almost 17,000 feet, and admire the views down to Lhasa. I also headed out to Drepung Monastery several times to visit a monk friend, and to wander the surrounding hills dotted with small retreats. During a few of those visits there were women working on the roofs of some monastic buildings. They would crush rocks, mix them with water, and apply that to the roof. They’d then stand in a line - each holding a thumb-diameter branch with a heavy circular stone attached to the bottom. They’d slowly walk back and forth across the roof while singing songs, keeping rhythm by pounding the stone on the roof, and thus compacting the new roofing material. It was great to watch, and hear, and I always had the ‘performance’ to myself.

I also found myself drinking a lot of tea and hanging out at the restaurants, shops, and hotels where friends worked. I became such a fixture at some of those places that if I left town to attend a festival for a few days, and forgot to mention that fact to friends, they’d call the hotel wondering where I was and to ensure that I was ok.

In the past I’d always said that one cup of butter tea every couple of years was more than enough, but in Tibet I actually found myself ordering it for myself by the thermos. I’d really amuse the Tibetans when I also ordered their staple breakfast, tsampa. Tsampa is simply barley flour mixed with some butter tea, rolled into a ball, and popped in your mouth.

Trip Advice

If you’re planning your own trip to Tibet, and I highly recommend it, my advice would be to travel during a shoulder season. I preferred the months of October and November, as the skies were cloudless and a dazzling blue. The temperatures were warm enough that you didn’t have to worry about too much snow for trekking, but were cold enough to keep most people away. The off-season and cooler temperatures also mean fewer permit traumas, which will increase your enjoyment of Tibet immensely. It’s true that many of the festivals are held during the summer months, but you’ll also have to put up with many more tourists - those on summer holidays from Europe and the States, those on school break from China, Indians passing through to circumambulate around the holy Mt. Kailash (I heard of groups that numbered in the hundreds!), and those travelers passing through during the warmer months. You’ll also have to contend with a lot more rain, mud, and possible road closures that can wreak havoc on your trip.

My favorite time for staying close to Lhasa was the dead of winter, as I was one of the few foreigners around - even most of the NGO staff leaves during the winter. As such, any encounter I had with the locals was genuine - they knew I wasn’t simply passing through. The people selling trinkets to tourists or begging are gone. There are many more Tibetans in town wearing their traditional outfits, as they make their pilgrimages from the smaller villages during the winter when they don’t have to tend to their herds or crops. Obviously you have to contend with colder temperatures during the winter - from my unheated room (though I did buy a small, ineffective heater) where I slept in a wool hat in my down sleeping bag, covered in two down comforters, and a wool blanket, I’d proceed down the hall to the squat toilet (where the window was normally open), and then upstairs to the luke-warm shower (where there was a hole in the wall for a fan). From there it was off to an unheated restaurant, an unheated internet cafe, and an unheated school. One became accustomed to doing everything while wearing a down jacket - even eating. The absolute temperature really doesn’t get that cold, but the fact that you’re in it all day long wears on you. Surprisingly, there really isn’t that much snow in Lhasa - I think there were two days where snow stuck to the ground in the 10 1/2 months I was there. One festival that is held in the winter - typically February, is Losar, or Tibetan New Year. That’s a great time to see many pilgrims in Lhasa, and to experience Tibetan culture - especially if you’re lucky enough to be invited into people’s homes.

So, is everything perfect on the roof? Not by any stretch of the imagination. As my journal stated on day one, “Downside to being in Lhasa? My room smells like yak cheese.” Other gripes: People use the narrow alleys in Lhasa as public toilets; fake monks accost you for money; numerous beggars count on Tibetans, and foreigners, who are trying to improve their karma by giving in this life; beggar children who bear-hug your leg such that you literally drag them down the sidewalk; and the Tibetan shop owners who have learned from their neighbors - buying something for 1/10 the inflated initial asking price is not out of the ordinary.

I could have told you about sentries posted outside many government compounds and hotels, solar cookers on rooftops for heating water, and people around town selling the hide/fur from various animals. There was the woman who had a bag with a very familiar-looking mouse, but the wording said, ‘Michael Mouse’…perhaps his Asian cousin?!? And there’s the new, glitzy street leading from the Jokhang which has funky palm trees and fake mushrooms and rocks with built-in speakers that blare music at night. But hey - if I told you eveything you wouldn’t have to go check it out for yourself…and you really should.

You’ll have to enter Tibet with an open mind, as you’re going to see the oppression, the inequality, and begging. However, dig deeper and you’ll still find that mystical, magical, timeless kingdom that everyone envisions when they hear the word ‘Tibet’. Where many still live as they have for millennia, and still do it with a smile on their face. Of the countries I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited, it’s my favorite. I fell in love with the simple life, rich culture, and amazing people. It’s a magical place. As I had to be around Lhasa to teach, there were many places I wasn’t able to visit. I will return.

Tibet Photos

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