Greetings from our last day in Lhasa –

So, first our health; we’re both still under the weather.. I think Mike more so than me. He has started taking the American antibiotic (that we had with us, instead of the Chinese antibiotics since no one was able to explain how often to take it or for how long) which seemed to make him feel better this morning.. but by late afternoon he felt really miserable again and we have to fly tomorrow. I’m still stuffed up and have laryngitis. I haven’t taken anything other than sudafed and aspirin.. and some Chinese nasal spray. I think we’ll live.

Today we met up with Pemba again after breakfast and decided that we really weren’t that interested in seeing the Buddha in the cave, but that what we’d like to do is see a little of the rural area and perhaps a small village to get a sense of how people really live. We know from previous trips to other countries that it’s often easier to get that in a small town rather than in a city.

So off we went. The drive took us up about an additional 1,000 feet on a well-maintained road that felt a lot like driving Highway 1 in California, except no ocean. It was mountainous and I assume in the spring and summer it would be lush green, but at this time of year it was all pretty dry and brown. As we reached a major peak in the road, the prayer flags (colorful banner- and ribbon-like fabric) were strewn all over the hillside and across the road creating a sort of arch of color that stretched and stretched. Then we drove the winding road until we reached a little village with some women spinning wool and piles and piles of yak “pies” (think cow pies) drying for later use as fuel for heating and cooking.

We got out of the car and Pemba spoke to the women who appeared to be about 70 or 80 years old (later found out just 49 years old) and one of the women said we could come to see her house. We followed her into her rambling “compound”… The house was made of some kind of Masonite painted in the traditional white with color trim.. We climbed a few stairs and were on her “deck” where more cow and yak pies were drying, and where she had a very clever, make-shift solar set-up to boil water… two metal arc shaped pieces that spanned about four feet and suspended between the two pieces was her teapot! She has a pump for water and a somewhat jerry-rigged electrical system, but she has cable television (no flat screen!) There’s a sleeping and sitting room, a kitchen, and a storage area where she keeps dry food for the animals. She’s widowed so she has to manage alone. She’s got cows and dogs and roosters. We walked to her “fields”.. and then for a while we got stuck in a passageway between her house and her field as the neighbors cows and bull were being walked to the road trying to use the same passageway. Oh, she also has a little meditation, prayer room set up with the typical yak butter candles.

We asked a lot of questions that Pemba translated and overall it was an interesting and very friendly encounter. We then headed back to town — talking a lot to Pemba about life in Lhasa and also the countryside, about the one child policy (which doesn’t apply in Tibet because they are a minority group), about education, the role of women (changing very very fast), cost of housing, cost of cars, who owns and who rents, etc. And he also asked us questions — like if we have animals on the road when cars are driving. He has learned everything he knows about the West from the tourists he shows around and from television. We went for lunch together and then Mike and I meandered around town for a few hours — probably stretching the limited strength we have.

After our jaunt into the countryside and lunch with Pemba — we trekked again to our favorite walking area in the Barkor.. always something new to see, always different alleys to walk, and always mobs of people circumambulating the Jokang Temple (many stopping to lay on the floor in prayer — amazing they don’t get stepped on by the crowd behind), and always everyone chanting and spinning the metal prayer wheels. And everyone with cell phones! We walked and naturally got a bit lost, but eventually all roads lead to outside the Barkor.. and we headed back to the hotel for our last night. Still a bit under the weather — but feeling like the colds (or whatever the hell we both had) are possibly breaking — we opted for Szechuan food (always believing that those spices can fight germs).

We are hopeful that we’ll be miraculously recovered by the time we reach Kathmandu tomorrow.

More from Kathmandu.

Fern

December 27, 2013. Lhasa Tibet – Tashi Delek

Thanks to all of you for asking what happened on December 26th since I didn’t issue any daily report (glad you noticed).

On the 25th, after coming back to the hotel (following the climb to the top of Potola Palace equivalent to climbing about a 30-story building up and then down again, and then walking for several hours in the little alleyways that comprise what’s known as Old Lhasa), we both felt pretty awful — congested, coughing, and weak. So we opted to have dinner in a very wonderful Chinese restaurant inside the hotel (well, it’s actually on the grounds of the hotel, but you need to go outside the hotel and in through another door) which was probably a wise choice. Hot and sour soup seemed to be a good antidote, followed by a lamb dish with rice and vegetables. After that we zonked out (for short periods as the coughing kept both of us up a bit).

On Thursday, December 26th — yesterday— Pemba was going to take us to some cave to see a giant Buddha (Frankly I was Buddha-ed out after the first hour at Potola), but we decided to decline and hang out at the hotel and maybe take a walk into the old section again on our own — just doing what we could without strain. The altitude really does take its toll. (I don’t recall having any trouble when we were at Machu Pichu with Cuzco being at 11,500 ft. and Machu Pichu being at about 10,000 ft., but I suppose we were about 15 years younger?)

So after a late breakfast, we did things like download photos (we’ve shot about 400 each already) and work on our courses for winter quarter, and catch up on CNN news, we decided that the hot and sour soup treatment should probably be repeated so we had it brought to our room. Then at about 8:00 pm we finally ventured outside the hotel walls… and headed for dinner at a place called Snowland. Pure Tibetan restaurants are really hard to find; most restaurants serve a combination of Tibetan, Nepali, and Chinese cuisines (with none of them being that fantastic). According to what we’ve read Tibetan food is pretty bland — barley based — so I think restaurants just combine these different cuisines. Many restaurants are closed now, because this is such a low tourist season. Additionally, yesterday and tonight are some kind of official holidays marking the death of some religious figure.

Anyway, last night we ventured out by rickshaw (our favorite transportation mode, and the only ones willing to pick us up) to a restaurant we had read about called Snowland, in a different part of town. Turns out it’s on a walking street, so even the rickshaw couldn’t get in so we walked down the street and found the place. Food was fair to middling, but lots of fun. Many young women working there or maybe some worked there and others were friends keeping the others company. Place was pretty empty; only about three other tables. While we ate, the girls played loud music (couldn’t discern the language) and they danced and danced — a little like a line dance; seemed to be having a great time.

Then we ventured out to the main street to find a taxi, but wound up with a rickshaw again. Here’s what we’ve been told. Taxis don’t like to take just a single fare; they like to do “cab-sharing” where they let you into the cab and then in a few blocks they pick someone else up, but they think foreigners won’t do that so they just opt to say no to us. The rickshaw drivers can only fit two people so we are perfect customers. And although we have learned the bargaining tricks (which they love), at the end we are so guilt-ridden about having these guys pedal us around that we have been doubling the amounts. Since we are the only westerners we see, the other rickshaws are occupied by Tibetans. Trust me, the amounts are so low it really doesn’t matter. These guys have to cross four lanes of traffic, but they seem to be pros (although this morning we had some questions about the guy’s brakes as they screeched and moaned and groaned pretty badly — like a dying horse — whenever he tried to stop, which was often to avoid cars and trucks).

OK.. so that was last night (December 26).

Woke up this morning and thought we were feeling a lot better (less coughing, still phlegm, but on the mend). So off we went to the old section to explore yet different alleys and passageways and see the life during the morning hours. Strolled the streets mingling with the people (many of whom are already circumambulating the Jokang Temple carrying their prayer wheels) and others just doing basic shopping. It’s a bizarre mix of teeny shops selling things like just yak butter (more on that later) or just cheese adjacent to shops selling commercially made boots and down coats (and some little stalls – really just a woman with an old-fashioned sewing machine – where you can have your down jacket mended). In the streets, men are bargaining for caterpillar worms which they feed to the yaks and also playing a game called Sho. Everyone was extremely friendly although no one can talk to us, but they smile and wave and some take our pictures with their iPhones, which seem to be ubiquitous. Naturally we find that pretty funny, but hey — we are the odd ones here.

It’s also an amazing mix of people in traditional garb of all sorts and people wearing totally western clothing. Oh, and amid all of the shops are very frequent police (or army) outposts taking up shop space or just in temporary structures on the street. So, yes, there is an ever-present sense of “control.” Indeed there also appear to be spontaneous street blockages with police then checking people coming in and out (they leave us alone and just wave us on).

We eventually meandered to a main street outside the old section and got into — you guessed it — a rickshaw, because no taxi would stop. This was the guy with the very very bad brakes. Had a very quick lunch (hot and sour soup again — our medicine) and then Pemba picked us up at 2:15pm.

We then met up with Pemba and headed to the Sera Monastery — about 600 years old and built like a little village in the hill with a sprawling complex of structures — all whitewashed (as was Potola Palace — which gets re-whitewashed once a year… peasants go to the top of each section and just pour the paint which has some yak milk in it — as does everything else here .. and then a crew paints the trim). On most days, the monks (600 of them are at Sera now — but in its heyday it had 3,000?? ) do debates and they are open to the public. We had read about this. They debate what the “teacher” taught them that morning, so the topic is always changing. They are in small groups and when they get something right they clap one another’s hand.. and the teacher roams around with prayer beads and if you get something wrong spins the beads above your head and laughingly says you need to study more, or at least that is what we think it all means.

Anyway, we got to Sera Monastery, but there was no debate today (guess they don’t post the schedule on any website).. but it didn’t really matter.. It’s a renowned place of scholarly learning, and trains many scholars, many of whom are famous in other Buddhist nations. Like all of the monasteries, lots of pilgrims are strolling about — leaving money in every conceivable corner and at every shrine and fresco. We went to visit one of the four “colleges”.. and the large assembly hall. Oh, forgot to mention that you need to go through security devices for all the monasteries.. but no one seems to pay any attention since things are buzzing away all the time and the guards are playing games on their cell phones.

It turns out that Pemba went into that particular monastery (Sera Monastery) when he was just 5 years old and stayed for 14 years, leaving when he was 19, having learned English and other languages and having been outside the monastery numerous times. So, he kept running into monks he knew from his days there. After we finished walking through the complex (28 acres), he met up with a friend whom we didn’t realize was a monk at the monastery because he was in non-monk garb. Pemba told us he was the head of the kitchen and we could get a tour of the kitchen. Thought that would be cool (and hopefully no more Buddhas and religious statues), so we jumped at the chance. It was really great .. about 2,000 sq. ft. on a platform with wood ovens under the platform.. Scores of scoopers and pots hanging above and three very very large vats where most of the food is cooked and served. The vats are sunk into that platform. They now have an electric machine that churns the yak butter. The space had amazing light streaming in — very very photogenic with ceilings about 30′ high. Seeing we were very taken by the kitchen (that cooks for the 600 monks), the same monk invited us for yak butter tea in a little private room off the kitchen.

While I was very suspect of the yak butter tea, it seemed like a great adventure so naturally we said “yes.” We were escorted to a little rectangular room with about six monks.. two of whom were counting money! They served us the tea and when I asked what was in it they explained the yak butter and salt and water, but it was very very creamy. .. I told them I had high blood pressure and that neither the butter nor salt was good for me but that I’d have a little taste. Tasted like drinking melted butter. This prompted a big discussion about life expectancy in Tibet (80 years old they say) and very little cancer, no diabetes, and no problems with blood pressure !! They also have 3,000 hours of sunshine and no one uses sunblock and no one has skin cancer.

Anyway, we sat with the six monks for about 30 minutes and they were very friendly even broached some unusual topics. We also laughed because we spied the same medications that the pharmacy had given Mike in a little pile on one table — seems one of the monks has the same symptoms as Mike. We learned that the monasteries take in a lot of money from all of the “offerings” (natch) and they are substantial owners of real estate (and beginning to do some development); the individual monks get the monies that are donated by “sponsors” and also their share on each of the four monthly “ritual days.” People kept coming in one at a time to give the main monk money to pray for someone or celebrate a special occasion. Apparently they read the names of the people four times on a particular ritual day.

We decided to make an offering to pray for two friends with cancer.. while I’m definitely not a believer (as you all well know), I figured — can’t hurt! So, I’m hoping that all of the faith that Pemba and these monks have will come to bear.

After making the donation the head monk blessed us and wrapped the traditional white “silk” scarf around our necks in a particular way with a knot and bowed and we bowed with hands in prayer and said something in Tibetan that they taught us (momentarily. We told them to come to California; they laughed.

It was a great experience. And off we went back to the hotel, intending to head to a Szechuan restaurant on Baeku Road.. But Mike is really still under the weather, so we’ll eat dinner at the hotel. We now have three different Chinese medications from the pharmacy here.. and have talked with the pharmacist via the concierge (who is Swiss/Malaysian) and many Chinese and Tibetan assistant concierges. We’re a little concerned about what they suggested so we’re now in touch with our own doctor for advice as to whether or not to take any of the medications. I’m feeling a lot better so I’m opting to decline any medications. Mike is leaning toward taking one of the three, but which one is a dilemma.

Here’s to speedy recovery.

Best to everyone.

Fern

PS A few other tidbits — Tibetans rarely eat fish, because they think they could be eating their relatives as they put dead bodies in the waters and also in the forests.

Merry, Merry — Tashi delek (Greetings). Thanks to everyone for all the medical advice..

Where to begin..?

Last night after settling into the hotel, we realized we were totally exhausted, so after a nap and shower (which by the way Pemba told us not to take a shower for another 24 hours since the water would stimulate too much circulation in the blood — advice we did not heed as I felt like I was never filthier), we opted to just eat at the hotel and then really sleep.

That was probably a mistake. There was some kind of Christmas Eve buffet going on (??) in the restaurant so we ate in the bar and the food was pretty awful… and service was slower than you can imagine. It took us more than 20 minutes to get soup. Anyway, we then unpacked and headed to bed…

Had breakfast and met up with Pemba. This is quite awkward for us as we’ve never had a guide before. But as I mentioned in an earlier note, our travel in and out of Tibet is really complicated and we were unable to get the Tibet Travel Permit without linking to a travel agent who then would only get us the permit if we used their guide. Trust me, we were in communication with more than 20 companies who could get the permit, but none would do it unless we used their guide. So this arrangement seemed the most benign — guide in the morning from 10-1 and then we are supposedly “napping” until 10am the next day (but obviously bopping around on our own!).

So at 10, off we went to Potola Palace — a towering structure that can be seen virtually from any spot in Lhasa. The story is that the Fifth Dalai Lama, started building the Palace in 1645 after one of his spiritual advisers said that the site was a perfect location for the seat of government — because it is situated between two monasteries and the old city of Lhasa. According to Pemba, it was built on top of the remains of an earlier fortress, from 637. Today, the Potala Palace is a museum, tended to by monks.

The building contains over 1,000 rooms, 10,000 shrines and about 200,000 statues – and is 384 ft. tall on top of a hill making it about 1,000 ft. in total above the valley floor. And yes we climbed to the top! In spite of altitude, thin air, pollution, etc. I thought I was going to die! Probably, I have to admit, that without Pemba’s encouragement, I for one would probably have stopped midway (or maybe even sooner)..

The Palace was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1994. At the time there were no buildings anywhere close to the palace, but now there are lots of buildings at the base of the hill. This concerned UNESCO, and the Chinese government enacted a height limit for the area. Significant UNESCO dollars have been pumped in for renovation.

Anyway, once you reach about halfway you enter a “residential” portion on one side and the “religious” portion on the other. Frankly both looked very religious to me. Because it was winter and there were not many tourists other than pilgrims from the countryside, you are allowed to stay as long as you want. In the summer you get a short period (cannot even imagine doing the climb in any shorter time span). Tibetans bring offerings to the statues .. money.. yak butter (which is really like wax) and all throughout the place you see the yak butter with wicks burning. People also throw white silky scarves in certain places. No photography is allowed once you enter the inside of the structures.. which was incredibly difficult for us.. But we followed the rules. Most of all the pilgrims are farmers at this time of year because the harvest season is over. For some of these people it is an annual venture; for others it is a once-in-a lifetime experience. Some people prostate themselves periodically as they go through the temple.

One monk asked Pemba where we were from because he thought Mike was Russian and looked like Putin! (Mike said he was a much nicer person than Putin and the monk laughed.) People are very curious about us; they stare at us all the time and little kids say something that sounds like “hello.” One guy wanted his picture taken with Mike. Imagine that…. reverse tourism. Everyone has an iPhone. They worship Steve Jobs because he made iPhones with Tibetan characters. When Jobs died Tibetan people had some kind of ceremony. He’s like the second Dalai Lama.

As we departed we were able to snap away as the pilgrim farmers circumambulated the Palace.

After this we went for lunch.. Mike had sizzling yak steak and I had momo stuffed with yak. And then we left Pemba (amid all of his warnings about our safety) and were off on our own (guide-less) to the old section of Lhasa.. and on a mission to find a shop called Dropenling that we had heard about where you can buy authentic Tibetan-made products and where the proceeds all go to support Tibetan village artisans. (We have researched these kinds of places in all of our travels to developing nations and it is always a big success.) No one at the hotel had ever heard of it, but they found it on the Internet (as had we) and explained (in general) where it was.. so off we went.. It was in the oldest section, close to the mosque and Muslim part of town. It took a while, but we did find the shop… It was closed.. But in that same area in a courtyard were lots of metal smiths hammering out parts to come together to make a statue of — what else — Buddha. We continued our walk and exploration down the narrow alleys.. and for a short time joined in with the pilgrims who walk around Barkor Street in the same direction circumnavigating Jokang Temple.. This happens daily at particular times of day..

At about 5 we headed back to the hotel… to rest and figure out where dinner will be.

When we were about 5 minutes from the hotel we hopped into a pedal-driven rickshaw to get to the hotel… All the other rickshaw drivers were laughing and yelling something to our driver. We calculated that these two Americans with all their clothes and cameras and heavy gear and boots and winter clothing (and four tangerines that we purchased in a local stand) probably weighed about 300 lbs and the Tibetan driver probably weighed about 140 lbs. Fortunately it was a flat road.

That’s about it for today; tomorrow (and tonight) is another day. Again, morning with Pemba to some cave to see some big Buddha and then we are on our own again. By the way, Pemba’s parents walk around the Potala Palace at the base which is a hefty walk every morning at 8 am and then they do the climb to the top every month. They are 80 years old!!!

Kaleshu (Goodbye)

Fern