Tibet (Part 1)

Lhasa, Tibet. October 5, 1986. On the eve of our departure from Tibet.

I face a Herculean task to express in words our experiences and impressions of Tibet and to capture over a month’s time in the region. It is such a huge task; at first I waited on the journal for my impressions and possible generalizations to form and solidify, but that never happened due to the diversity of experiences. Then as time lagged the Tibetan journal became a formidable obstacle too large to be tackled. Although one should attack a large problem or task in small pieces, I just couldn’t begin. But now I must begin, but where do I start?

Perhaps, I will begin with strangely enough, the Chinese in Tibet. Sure, they can be as obstinate as ever; ticket vendors refusing to sell foreigners bus tickets, they cough and sit everywhere, the Chinese bureaucracy and police control the Lhasa tourist trade with an iron fist and, sure, they destroyed 99% of the monasteries during the Cultural Revolution. But I still find the Chinese people that are in Tibet to be interesting. I believe that Tibet is an unenviable posting for the Chinese; most I suspect are here against their own free will. There is no freedom of movement in China. People work where the government tells them. Tibet must be the end of the earth for them. Yet, they are lively, most unlike their counterparts in China proper. They smile, laugh, say hello to foreigners, and seem like a jolly lot.

For the most part they are friendly amongst themselves and more importantly to me, friendly to foreigners. sure, there are the grouches, like the front desk attendant here at the Plateau Hotel who makes her and our lives as miserable as possible (it can take a great deal of effort to get a 5 Yuan bed from her), but the rest of the staff are jovial and smile, sometimes behind their surgical masks. there are plenty of Chinese in Tibet; they outnumber the Tibetans in Lhasa. There is a significant military presence in the region. Every town seems to have an army of bureaucrats and supporting service industry, but I sometimes wonder what there is to administrate about a bunch of nomads and barley farmers.

Tibet is poor. when we were on the Everest trek, we both remarked that the people seemed as poor as anywhere that we have seen, discounting India’s destitute, and nowhere is the contrast between the relative wealth of the Han Chinese and the minority people more apparent than in Tibet. the Chinese seem to have much more spending money than the Chinese of china proper and infinitely more than the Tibetans. Very few Tibetans own bicycles, spend money in the department stores or in the restaurants. but perhaps the wealthy gets stashed away in other forms, after all most Tibetans would prefer a plastic jug of chang over a glass bottle of Pijou( beer).

Boy! and do they enjoy their chang. Millet beer is transported in white plastic jugs everywhere. It’s of in the fields and behind the truck driver’s seat. when two friends meet, almost invariably, the jug appears and the one cu is cleaned with a dirty rag and then a glass of milky chang is poured and forced upon the friend. we have spent many an hour waiting for our truck driver to finish up, making for sometimes extended journeys. Some of the chang is good, most fair and some awful. It Takes quite a bit for a buzz, but after an afternoon of chang, there can be no doubt that you get drunk. It’s cheap to; 3-4 litres for 1 Yuan (0.25 USD). the national drink of Tibet.

We arrived in Lhasa on August 28 via CAAC airlines. the flight cost us Y421 FEC (about 120 USD) from Cheng-du. Later I would wonder if we shouldn’t have taken the overland route and saved ourselves a great deal of money. In any case, we flew over an endless sea of mountains, many of them snow capped and an ocean of clouds. we touched down at Gongger airfield and waited for the bus that eventually brought us on the 1 ½ hour ride to Lhasa. the air was indeed thin, the scenery desolate as we followed the Yarlong and Lhasa rivers into the capital. Brown, rocky mountains, lacing any vegetation surround a valley floor with barley fields and occasional mud brick villages.

We tool it easy during the fist few days. At 3,600 metres, the air is thin and we went into high altitude mode, resting and drinking plenty of fluids. tat was however complicated by the Lhasa toilet situation.

Even after two years of traveling, the first thing that hit us about Lhasa was that it is pretty basic and unhygienic. the toilets at the first two hotels were abysmal. Two days later the toilet at the “Cheapy” Hotel were torn down; the local public toilets were infested with maggots. with all of our fluid intake in the initial days, we became quite familiar with the local toilet scene.

It was surprisingly warm that first week, some tourists wore t-shirts and shorts. even the evenings were mild. Our altitude sickness was mild and we prepared for a trek to Everest base camp. during that time we visited the Potala, the magnificent palace which dominates Lhasa. we slowly climbed up the endless steps, admired the four Heavenly guards who guard the gate and paid our 1Yuan admission fee (3 Yuan without a student card) and walked and climbed through the dazzling array of chambers, richly decorated with Buddhist iconography. Its immense riches were somewhat diminished by the museum feeling and the occasional “photo 30 Yuan”. In the early morning a steady parade of pilgrims prostrate themselves in front of the dalai lama’s chair and the larger Buddhist images, adding considerable colour to the palace. One room contains a row of large stupa shaped tombs, all elaborately decorated, reaching 15 metres in height. but alas, the leader, the Dalai Lama, no longer lives there and although very impressive, inhabitant-less palaces are museums, devoid of life. One can only imagine…

Lhasa itself is really two towns; a Tibetan section and a Chinese ghetto. the Han area is a collection f the normal wide streets, drab but functional buildings and a Chinese population dressed in blues and other dark colours. By contrast, the Tibetan buildings are white in colour with wonderful doorways and window awnings, narrow (smelly) streets, much more personal. The Jokhang temple and pilgrim circuit are the centre of the old town.

The Jokhang is the one place in Tibet where one can feel the religious fervor. It is humming with activity. On any given moment, there are two dozen people performing prostrations in front of the Jokhang doors. Several others would be performing prostrations along eh Pilgrims circuit and hundreds walking around it and paying homage to the spiritual representations inside. the work within the temple is almost over indulgence, too much for the casual observer to absorb. there are numerous chambers off the main hall, all for which pilgrims queue and pass through always bowing and placing their foreheads on the statues. almost everyone is chanting or mumbling something. Tibetans chanting is a particularly lovely sound heard frequently, although in some cases, I think are merely talking to themselves!

Lhasa attracts pilgrims from all over the region. Before the advent of motorized transport, they would travel for weeks or months on pilgrimage by foot, now its days or weeks by bus or truck. Truck loads of Tibetans enter and exit Lhasa. they sleep in tents and cook on fires. Several camps were established on both sides of the Plateau Hotel. many of them seem to be from the north; their chubas are sheepskin lined for a colder climate than the relatively temperate Lhasa valley.

The Khampas are very much in evidence in Lhasa. They wear red thread in their hair, lightweight chubas and can always be found standing proudly in the midst of the Barkhor market. They are the traders and the thieves of the past. The Barkhor surrounds the Jokhang. To shop there means traveling in a clockwise direction amongst the pilgrims and the prostrating few. An amazing variety of merchandise is sold, including prayer flags, khata incense, curios for both Tibetans and the newer tourist market, felt material, Chinese material, plastic jugs, polypropylene bags, nylon rope, rugs, chubas, vests, jackets, pants, yak meat, cassette tapes, sheepskins, yak cheese, honey and the normal assortment of fruit and vegetables , seeds, beans etc etc. a nice place to get lost in the stream of time.

Lhasa has its share of beggars. Somewhat unique to Tibet is the sharing of food with the less well-off. Many restaurants in Lhasa have a troupe of hungry people waiting for diners to finish with their food; a simple hand gesture brings a grubby Tibetan to your table who sits down and finishes all the leftovers. there are the poor, pilgrims requiring cash to return home and chanting monks who often litter the Jokhang circuit asking for alms. they all add atmosphere.

We were subject to constant requests for Dalai Lama (DL) pictures. Before setting out for Tibet every good tourist arms himself with a pocketful of DL pictures because everyone knows the good Tibetans are desperate for pictures of their spiritual leader. However DL pictures can be easily purchased in Lhasa at minimal cost. There is no longer a shortage, but the begging continues. Tourists are constantly accosted by anyone and everyone. A good resale market exists and the worst offenders are the monks in the monasteries who constantly harangue tourists for DL pictures to stockpile their treasure chests with. I don’t condone indiscriminate giving of sweets and pens to children. In Tibet, DL pictures were dangerously close to sweets and pens!

The food in Lhasa can at times be pretty questionable but by the end of our stay, we had established several favorites.; the new “Dharkay” restaurant being our first choice. Fresh noodles at one of the Moslem restaurants was surprisingly good and cheap. Strangely enough there is a fair sized Moslem community in Lhasa. The men wear their distinctive white skull caps and the women somewhat abridged chef’s hat. They are model citizens often smiling, meek, honest and serve pretty good food. we would often visit our Ugyhur friend who cooked up nicely spiced shish kebab on a charcoal fire for 20 fen a skewer.

During our first stay in Lhasa, we prepared for our Chomolongmo (Everest) trek, doing our shopping in the Barkhor. By the time we left Tibet, our hiking supply needs were well established and routine. While hiking, it was tsampa, sugar and raisins for breakfast. Lunch was instant noodles and perhaps a “761” (muesli type) bar and diners were thukpa, vegetables and instant beef curry (in an aluminum pouch). Reasonable, fairly spartan yet it seemed extravagant by comparison with the local diet as we would find out.

We set out cautiously from Lhasa on a tourist bus bound for the Nepali border. We passed through Gyantse and Xigatse; the scenery during the first day was nice as we passed over two high passes, skirted Yamdrok Lake, a fairly up and down ride. On the third day of our journey, we jumped of the bus and found ourselves standing literally in the middle of nowhere, the security of the bus was gone. However, within minutes, a jeep miraculously appeared we negotiated a rate (30 Yuan) and an hour later, we were over Pang La, a 5200 metre pass and entering Peruche, home of the Qomulongmo Hotel.

Peruche was to become the site of several cultural experiences. For lunch we ate rice and potatoes. The hotel catered boiled rice (1 Yuan), boiled potatoes (2 yuan) and thukpa (plain) (1 yuan). That was the extent of the entire menu. a group of rugged locals slurped their noodles alongside us. I befriended an older fellow and we communicated in what little Tibetan I knew at the time, aided with a phrasebook and dictionary. My vocabulary was to expand that afternoon.

I wore my chuba as I did throughout most of Tibet, except for those surprisingly warm days in Lhasa. it brought smiles to the people of Lhasa and did similarly in Peruchi during an afternoon stroll. I’m still wearing my chuba across the Gobi desert. I find it immensely practical mainly because of its built in temperature control but in Tibet its real magic is in the people’s reactions.

As I left the courtyard of the hotel, a group of four women greeted me then asked for money so they could buy chang and presumably get drunk. A man approached and the women quickly eased off and I approached another group of people who also inspected my chuba and offered some popcorn. Clothes were offered in exchange for my chuba then someone asked what I had inside the wool robe. Out came the camera and I allowed them to handle it and peek through the viewfinder. We had a photo session,; they took my picture with it. I of course reciprocated. I pushed on my way, further exploring the village. A group of kids kicked a soccer ball around and I joined in. They were most impressed with high boots into the air and it was difficult to part, but eventually they allowed me to do so. As I turned another corner, a group of people sitting in the sun, protected from the wind, motioned to join them. The women young women and two men were spinning wool. I sat down and after formalities, two of the older women offered their daughters to me; “lakpa” and motioned to their homes. Lakpa is a Nepali word as well and it means “screw”! Needless to say, I declined the offers (who knows what consequences it would entail!).

The Tibetans are a promiscuous bunch; the men often grab women by the ass and lakpa is frequently heard. One fellow tourist once had a naked women pull at his sleeping bag in the middle of the night.

I continued waling through the village and joined a large group of women also spinning yarn to further offers of lakpa. After declining their kind offers, I headed back to the hotel for further strange adventures that were to follow.

Back at the Qomlongmo, Sheila and three other trekkers were lazing about in the dorm which was surprisingly well furnished. We went about ordering our dinner and while we waited for our noodles, a Toyota Land cruiser pulled up and a group of officials descended upon the hotel cum bar cum shop. the loud boisterous Tibetans present quieted down and left soon after.

The officials asked for our passports. Not wanting to create ill feeling, we all heeded the request. Sheila and I were then singled out for what was to become a complete, although amateurish, belongings and body search. For what, we could only guess, but it must have been for GOLD. Apparently a group of westerners had been caught with 10 kg of gold a week earlier at the Nepali border. After examining our onions and Sheila’s tampons quite thoroughly, we were subjected to a metal detector which didn’t work especially well; it made a great deal of noise when passed near on of the custom official’s head or did he have mouth full of gold teeth? Sheila’s boots caused a great deal of concern, of course every boot has a metal shank within! Then, as quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared, leaving the group of us scratching our heads in wonder. If we were gold smugglers, we had picked a strange route into Nepal; a 7,000 metre col over the border would be no easy task! After a night of further strange going-ons (fighting over change, the price of eggs, a chang party in the adjoining room and unwanted guests through out the night) we set out down the track, Everest bound!

The valley is surrounded by mountains and the rough soil provides enough nutrients for barley, but just. the villages are collections of mud houses and judging by their ratty clothes, the Tibetans barely eke out a living. some waved, most simply stared as we passed through. I sat down with two men who offered me chang along the track. Lunchtime offered us a warm stream away from human habitation where we enjoyed a mug of noodle soup and a bath! Our freshness then wore off as we continued to trudge along the valley. At 6:00 p.m., we declined an offer to stay at a very poor man’s home; he and his seven children seemed to have inadequate clothing and their home was dirty and bare. They began begging before we had even settled in so we continue as there were supposed to be ruins ahead. While the road forded the river, the footpath continued along the eastern cliffs. At time, the path disintegrated into slate which emptied steeply into the raging river. No ruins appeared and as the twilight approached we considered forging the river but it appeared foolhardy. Finally, we reached a small footbridge which we crossed and we raced to Tjutsan, the last habitation in the valley as the darkness descended. Our sleeping arrangements were extremely basic made less bearable by the begging of the household residents. we left early the next morning and half an hour later, we sat down to our breakfast of coffee and a 761 bar. A young shepherd approached us and we had good fun with him.

We expected a short waking day to Ronbok Gompa and thus set out a leisurely pace, even stopping to cook soup during our lengthy lunch break. Then as we finally turned the corner, we looked up the valley to ever distant mountains. My camera stopped working and as we pressed on, it began to hail and the air became thin. Sheila slowed and we grinded our way up, then catching a glimpse of the magic mountain, Qomolongmo or Mt Everest as it is known in the west. We continued through rocks until Sheila could go no more. I spotted ruins above us alongside a stream and we halted for the night. Our attempts at a fire were to no avail and I spoon fed cold beef curry to Sheila and we bedded down in a small roofed shelter for the night and what ever heat my body produced was quickly absorbed by the ice cold earth. I didn’t sleep well that night.

The following morning was clear and we broke camp and set out up the narrow valley. fifteen minutes later we stumbled on the Ronbok Gompa and its little beehive of carpenters doing reconstruction work on the badly destroyed monastery. We sat by a nearby stream and relished the sight of the majestic North face of Everest for the entire day. It was September 8, our second wedding anniversary.