Tibet (Part II)

Continuing the journey from Part I at Rongbuk Monastery

At 4:00 a.m. the following morning while trying to sleep in a freezer box of a room at the monastery, we decided that we had enough of cold nights. We sat on the back of a returning truck later in the day. back to the “highway”. Our driver was friendly enough and we joined him at several of the proverbial chang stops. As truck divers offer the only realistic transport in Tibet, they enjoy relatively high social status and monthly pay. Drivers are always pried with chai and chang. At the to of the pass we and a tractor load of Tibetans stopped for a session.

We maintained a leisurely pace, heading back to Lhasa,. We were fortunate with lifts to Xigatse and upon arrival, we headed straight for the “Laughing Restaurant” and a couple of beers. Our stay at the Tensin Hotel was relaxing and it was comforting to be heading towards Lhasa because those people heading to Nepal were having a hell of a time getting out. The main attraction in Xigatse is of course the Tashilumpo Monastery, seat of the Panchan Lama. Little of it seems to have been touched during the Cultural Revolution, although the monks who inhabited it were not so lucky. Many were slaughtered, most sent off to work camps. We walked through the impressive shrines of the complex, following the pilgrim’s trail. In one room the walls were painted with demons and a monk sat next to a butter lamp. I put a 1 Yuan note on the table and he began chanting, pounding a drum and ringing a bell. A wind-up monk! After we emerged from an exhaustive tour of the chambers, we returned to the daylight and a group of about 30 monks in a courtyard. they were in the midst of a debating session. Small groups of monks were discussing religious doctrine (or was it baseball?) in a very characteristic fashion. Discussion points are delivered with a step forward and a simultaneous clapping and pointing of the hand. A wonderful sight!

On a more mundane level, we bought food in the small market and sampled the local restaurant fare including roast beef or lanpan nieurou at the Chengdu-3 Rivers restaurant. Hot showers were not to be as our stay was mired with cloud. Our final day was sunny but an off day (for foreigners) at the public solar heated bath-house.

Moving further east, we arrived in Gyantse, a former fort and monastery town. The beauty of Gyantse is there are few if any buildings built by the Chinese. The main street is wide and dusty and is flanked by a collection of one story wooden buildings giving the impression of a “wild west” town. But there were no gunfighters in sight.

The following morning, we found ourselves clambering up what remains of the Gyantse fort that dominates the village. A good view was beheld but what struck me was the obvious intensity and vigor of the destructive force that reduced much of the fort to rubble during the Cultural Revolution. Whole walls had been torn down. During the 9^th century, 4,000 monasteries and temples were destroyed or closed in China. During the Cultural Revolution, 99% of Tibet’s 2,000 monasteries were destroyed. Similar havoc reigned through all of the Chinese country. And now less than twenty years later, the reconstruction is in progress. What an absurd reality.

Much of the Gyantse gompa remains today. The spectacular stupa features a maze of interior stairways that lead into a symbolic nirvana, but along its course are demons and goddesses. A chamber of horrors is in both the stupa and the main gompa; scarves cover the faces of the demons, presumably they are too horrible to look at. Large wooden statues of various deities were quite impassive but the great wooden doors closed on us and the great monastery closed to pilgrims and other visitors fifteen minutes before noon.

Lhasa seemed like a pretty civilized place on our return. After a hot shower at the Kirey Hotel, we felt like normal human beings once again.

I began immediately to prepare for Namtso (lake) which is west of Damxung, 200 km north of Lhasa. Reports indicated it was going to be a cold trip. Namtso sits 4,500 metres above sea level (15,500 ft). Sheila chose to sit this one out.

Barry (of Barry and Molly, keen Americans) provided a stove prototype which I copied. A small tin can is stuffed with cardboard and melted wax to produce a version of a sterno-type stove. I carried a small aluminum kettle and even a very light thermos which provided hot water at a moment’s notice. I brought along the proverbial beef curry, thukpa noodles, tsampa, a few snacks and plenty of warm clothing.

The bus up to Damxung brought me into yak grazing territory and the very unappealing town itself. I spent an uneventful afternoon there and then set out early, before daybreak, the following morning. As I passed from village to village, Damxung receded and gradually the track reached the base of the pass. The sound of a truck, then a truck stopping, clambering up onto the top of grass heap and crossing the 5,000 metre pass happened very quickly thus saving me a very long day’s march. As it was, I set out towards the lake and began to appreciate the vast distances. Mountains and even the lake seemed to recede at times. Suddenly, I felt very small in light of the vast distances. Little bumps or dots would appear far off on the horizon but as I would approach them, they would materialize into old ruins and animal pens. The landscape was totally devoid of humans but plenty of small gophers who had riddled the ground with networks of holes and tunnels. Ducks, hawks and other birds inhabited the area and seemed rather indifferent to my presence. I had wished to stay in some caves but their location was a mystery and a prospective mountain seemed a long way off so I bedded down for the night at a pen (no roof, but shelter from the wind). I managed a small fire with wood I had collected by the lake. The bright moon illuminated the ground and the stars were ablaze; fortunately it didn’t rain or snow that evening. After wandering along the lake I decided to head back rather than proceeding further up the valley. Once again, I arose well before dawn and walked as the sun came over the snow-capped mountains, eventually providing some warmth to the frigid surroundings. I climbed up Djebo la (pass) and the lake once again became visible. I reached the saddle by 11:00 a.m. (2 hours of level walking then a 2 hour climb) but the walk down seemed to take forever. There were no vehicles that day; I reached the base 6 hours later. My feet had blistered and the remaining 2 hours were only made bearable by the scenery and a group of boys who accompanied me part way. It had been a nice walk, somewhat disappointing, as all of the nomads had left the lake area, but I visited a few nomad areas as the truck that I was traveling on stopped to see friends all along the highway.

I rolled into Lhasa under the cover of darkness and grabbed a spaghetti at the Moslem noodle shop.

We strolled into the Lhasa “Cheapy” Hotel and discovered it too had been shut down by the PSB (police). It had been expected but when it did, I felt outraged. CITS (China International Travel Service) controls the tourist trade in Lhasa with an iron fist. Tourists are charged double local prices on the buses and the hotels all cost an inflated 10-Yuan for a dorm bed. At the Tashilumpo Monastery tourists pay 5 FEC, students only 30 cents. The other cheap hotel had been closed down earlier in September and suddenly we had to scramble for reasonably priced accommodation. We and three others piled into a room at the Kirey but only paid for three people. On our last stay in Lhasa, Sheila and I paid for one bed and shared it rather than pay the relatively "exorbitant" 10 Yuan. The Green Hotel (actually the Plateau) opened and six-Yuan beds became temporarily available. As we left Lhasa in October, the price was going up. Hotel talk seemed to be a part of every traveler’s conversation and to be honest, it became tiring at times.

We headed for Samye and Tsedang a couple of days later. An Isuzu bus dropped us off on the side of the road and we patiently waited for a ferryboat alongside the Yarlong River which changes name further southeast and becomes the life-giving Bhramaputra in Bangladesh. They completed mechanical repairs on the boat, another barge also appeared and the boatmen all broke for a chang break. Eventually, we set out across the wide expanse, carefully avoiding the many sandbanks to a waiting tractor and trailer that brought us to Samye village. The monastery is the focal point in Samye. It was founded by the grand master of tantricism, Padma Sambhava, after he subdued the Tibetan demons and made them protectors of the Buddhist faith. The gompa was badly damaged during the Cultural Revolution (including 3 bombs) and the restoration task is enormous. Skilled carpenters transform logs into pillars, supports, etc. without the use of any machines. Behind the gompa, a group of men pound away at metal, producing pipes. There’s a small (thirty) group of monks who are in residence and provide life to the prayer hall each morning. Our hotel was basic, water was difficult to procure and the woman attendant was nice only when drunk. The local restaurant, nicknamed “Fly restaurant” provided adequate, sometimes awful food and a haven for a large fly population. Tibetans would often gather around the window to watch a couple of westerners perform “the Australian salute” (waving off the flies).

The attraction to Samye is the beautiful setting. the valley is fertile, snow mountains are to the north and sand dunes down towards the Yarlong River. The fields were golden, others already harvested. Groups of people worked together in separating and husking the barley with the use of a simple husking machine. People are friendly and people far-off in the fields would almost invariably wave and greet foreigners with “Tashi Delek” or even “good-a-bye”. Delightful surroundings.

We set out, up the valley, past a few villages until the valley narrowed and cultivated plots gave way to trees and grazing areas, territory of the herdsmen. We soon came across a collection of grotty wool tents. Later we passed a collection of tents on the other side of a raging river. As exhaustion began to set in, we reached an impasse. The recent rains and snow that made the path quite mucky also raised the river level making a crossing and further progress a dangerous proposition. We retreated past the herders. The yaks had been brought in for the night and two bulls pushed and shoved each other in a characteristic mating season fashion. A group of women performed the evening milking. We descended , then climbed up to a small gompa nestled up on a cliff. As darkness enveloped the valley, we staggered into the gompa and gulped down hot (no butter) tea provided to us by two unassuming monks. They helped us cook our meal of noodles and then we settled down to a night on the cold mud floor.

In the morning we searched without success for a spring which Padma Sambhava or Guru Rimpoche as he is also known, magically created out of the rock. Some hours later we arrived in Samye for a final night.

The following morning, we boarded a truck, and then took the boat crossing over the Yarlong river and another truck (transporting barrels and wood planks) into Tsedang. Aside from the Tibetans that wander the streets, one would think that Tsedang is just another Chinese town, but it isn’t. It’s home of the Tsedang Hotel, an affordable oasis in the midst of Tibet. Although built for well-heeled package tourists, rooms are rented out for a very affordable 20-Yuan a double. Two box spring beds, easy chairs and a hot bath made it a very comfortable resting spot. A small Moslem noodle shop made eating pleasurable and fireworks purchased at a department store made Sheila’s birthday a celebration!

A nearby monastery (13 km) provided a pleasant walk through fields where Tibetans tilled the soil as the barley harvest was well over. We managed several lifts on small farm tractors and the gompa perched up on a hillock looked more like a fort than a place of worship. Three resident monks gave life to the cozy gompa.

We returned once again to Lhasa, for our last days to savor the atmosphere of the Barkhor. A cycle ride out to Drepang Monastery was most rewarding as little seems to have been damaged and it gave insight into what Tibet was really like during feudal days. a collection of white buildings and a number of large prayer halls. Some of the courtyards looked hundreds of years old; I bet they are!

Lhasa is quite a place. Pilgrims with their hair braided in 108 knots, the Khampas selling trinkets “How Muchay?” and one money changer who literally had a chuba full of money. I wore my chuba much of the time, to the pleasure of the locals. One night I returned to the Hotel and was stopped by the attendant who thought I really was a Tibetan!

Tibet opened to foreign visitors in 1985. 1986 is apparently the first big year for tourism. aside from tourist inflation, restaurants seem to open up each week. As each busload of tourists headed off for the Nepali border, others quickly filled the hotel beds and restaurant tables. Punk came to Lhasa. An orange haired guy and red haired woman caught my eye, as did two dressed in black. One fellow had a chain connected from an ear to his nose. They certainly got the attention they obviously required. Perhaps the Chinese and Tibetans think they are from different regions of the west in their tribal outfits. Cycling is also popular, particularly amongst Americans. a week didn’t go by without a couple of mountain bikes setting off on the Friendship Highway to Nepal.

Renting bicycles in Lhasa was another example of tourist inflation. Whereas the daily rental fee in Beijing is 2 Yuan, it’s an exorbitant 10-Yuan in Lhasa. However, individuals will often rent their own bikes for half that. Psssst…bicycle? Unfortunately, some of the rental bicycles go missing. A Khampa knife will easily break open a bicycle lock and many disappear. Theft is fairly common in Tibet. Plenty were pick pocketed and one fellow lost his camera at the bus station. Some of the villages, particularly on the Everest trek are notorious for theft.

Tibetans are a funny lot. Generalizations are near to impossible. I have never come across such a diversity of opinions amongst travelers. While one person might have a terrible time on a particular walk, another would have a wonderful time. Not unlike the climatic extremes, the people are not easily categorized. Some seemed genuinely sincere but others were plainly bad apples. As each day passed, we would hear another extraordinary story.

Thomas, a German had a punch-up with a truck driver who tried to leave him and three other tourists at a truck stop and make off with their bags. A Canadian girl threw a sign down at the bank and next thing she knew, the bank staff beat her up and then brought her down to the police station to pay a 20 Yuan fine! A Frenchman refused to pay 3 Yuan for a very questionable bed and the hotel manager bopped him on the nose with the dustbin. After returning from the hospital with stitches, the manager gave him the bed for 2 Yuan! Extra-ordinary!

However, I won’t miss the gastro-intestinal problems that seem a part of Tibet. The Tibetans all seem to suffer from the runs and westerners are not spared. Luckily, I didn’t surpass Sheila’s record twelve visits to the toilet in one day.

It was certainly an interesting stay, the Tibetans provide colour, but its no Shangri La. It’s not an easy existence in Tibet and the hardships reflect on their ways. We didn’t have any peak experiences, never really felt close to the people, nor felt the warmth that we often found on the other side of the Himalayas in Nepal. Perhaps, we were expecting too much or perhaps we have been on the road too long….

We said goodbye to Lhasa and boarded a bus that would take us 1200 km over the world’s highest highway to Golmud, a rail head. The road is almost entirely between 4,000 and 5,000 metres high. It apparently took 11 years and 800,000,000 Yuan to build, that probably at very low wage rates. The scenery was varied, passing over 3 high passes and crossing over vast pasture lands, somewhat like the Arctic I summer. Seat 9 turned out to be terribly uncomfortable 9a metal box occupied my legroom) and the food, along the way, was amongst the worst anywhere. The bus finally halted for the night at 11:00 pm at a grotty truck stop hotel. We and 8 yak-butter smelling Tibetans pulled into a dorm room (2.50 Yuan per night). The temperature was a cool –5 degrees both inside and outside. I was unable to get water for our dehydrated bodies, just a chorus of “mayo” (none) from the locals. The next morning we set out at 6:00am. It was sometime before the sun provided any warmth to the cold bus interior.

During the day, we passed through a few more desolate towns and stopped at a one burner restaurant, where we and 80 others (2 buses worth) competed in Chinese fashion for food as if it would vanish in five minute. We all clawed at the counter but eventually, we were all served amazingly awful food. We descended from the plateau and reached Golmud by late afternoon. The bus dropped us off in front of the Golmud Municipal guest House; 4Yuan a bed and quite comfortable.