Life abroad: As Rasa tells it

The former seat of the Dalai Lama, the Potala Palace.

July 28, 2010

Lhasa, Tibet

One of the stipulations of being granted the permit to enter Tibet was that we must have a tour and that we cannot enter monasteries without a guide.  Our visit to the Potala Palace has been registered since yesterday.  We needed to have our tickets, permits, passports, and appointment in order to enter the building.  Once we were inside, we were only given one hour exactly to visit and then have to leave the building.  The Chinese tourists get a slightly longer visit.

We were all a little worried about getting up all of the stairs to reach the top of the complex in the half hour allotted since the altitude makes any kind of activity more challenging.  We have all been moving a bit slower than usual.  However, walking up the stairs wasn’t a problem and we made it up in good time.  Many people, Tibetan and Chinese, would greet us as we walked up.  Tibetans would give huge smiles and some of the older ladies would give me the unique Tibetan tongue greeting and some of the Chinese tourist wanted to take pictures with us.  The guards took our water bottles away at the entry and unfortunately took Alisa’s bottle of oxygen as she still wasn’t feeling well.   When we got inside we were able to buy more water but sadly, no oxygen.

There weren’t many foreign tourists there, mostly Chinese and Tibetan pilgrims.  It was really moving watching the Tibetans.  There was one man carrying an elderly woman on his back, possibly his grandmother, to reach the highest and most sacred part of the temple.  I would well up with tears each time I saw him, he must have been carrying her on his back for hours; I never once saw him put her down.  Another man was walking accompanying an elderly family member.  While we were walking up some of the stairs, she stumbled and I helped catch her to regain her balance.  He spoke some English and asked me where I am from.  I told him I am American and he seemed pleased.  I saw him again later and greeted his grandmother in Tibetan (Tashi dele), later he came and gave Ange a blue prayer scarf which our guide said was a very special blessing.

A courtyard within the Potala Palace

For the most part, as with all of the places we have visited so far, I found the Potala Palace to be very moving and spiritual experience which was only briefly interrupted by the overly powerful loudspeakers that some of the Chinese guides used to communicate with their large groups.  Surprisingly, foreign tourists get Tibetan guides ( I had been concerned that we wouldn’t be permitted to interact with any Tibetans) and Chinese tourist get Chinese guides.  We would catch Tashi occasionally shaking his head  as we passed a group of Chinese. The guides tell very different stories than the Tibetans would and have very different explanations.  The Chinese see themselves as liberators of a backwards people and the Tibetans see the Chinese as occupiers.  I found it insulting for the Chinese tourist to come and visit not only what had been the seat of power of a nation that they have forcibly annexed but also one that is considered sacred and hallowed to many.  I was surprised that for the most part, the Tibetans who were on pilgrimage didn’t pay the Chinese any mind but went out of their way to warmly greet the foreigners.

After finishing our hour inside, we set off for a quick lunch and then to the more recently build Summer Palace.  After nearly half a century in exile, the staff still lovingly maintains the flowers that are the Dalai Lama’s favorite.  Much of the interior was in more modern fitting (circa 1950s) rather than the monasteries and palace which have stayed much the same throughout the centuries.  A Chinese tourist who had been in the group just ahead of us stayed behind to ask our guide to confirm something.  The Chinese guide was telling the group how silly it was that there was a radio in the palace since there was no electricity.  Our guide informed him that there certainly was electricity at that time.  The Chinese credit themselves for bringing all modern things to Tibet; electricity, roads, schools.  They claim that they liberated the Tibetans from serfdom and poverty.  So if the Dalai Lama was able to have electricity pre-Chinese, that would contradict what they believe about the Tibet.

Later in the afternoon, we went to the Tibetan Museum, which was like being smacked in the face with propaganda.  By the main entrance they have in large red letters “TIBET 1959-2010”.  It celebrated the years of occupation as if it was commemorating the years of their nation.  My jaw dropped when I saw that.  On the top floor they had scale models of buildings that the Chinese government is planning on constructing here.  I could not keep the tears from welling up in my eyes seeing these ridiculous contemporary designs that will inevitably replace the stunning traditional Tibetan buildings that the locals so lovingly maintain.  I watched as Chinese tourists looking at the models, nodding with big grins at the “future” of Tibet’s progress and development thanks to their Chinese benefactors. All I could see in those plans was the eradication of the Tibetan culture and the destruction of this special, beautiful land to become nothing more than another modern, polluted Chinese city.  What a helpless feeling, knowing that it is unlikely to change until it is too late.  The Chinese have proven they have no qualms about destroying all that is old to bring in “better” modern things.  The Tibetans are a peaceful, welcoming people and it saddens me that these very admirable traits are potentially what have led to their subjugation.

Storm clouds moving in over the Jokhang Temple.

July 27, 2010

Lhasa, Tibet

At long last we are in Tibet.  Last time we were in China, we wanted to come here but couldn’t  arrange the permits in time.   We were well prepared and had laid the groundwork months in advance.  We left later than we planned as there was a minor hiccup in our papers.  Somehow, the passport that was given for Ange’s permit was not the one that had his Chinese visa and we had to postpone our trip a few days to have everything corrected.  We were unable to get seats all together for the two day train ride up and so we opted to fly in.  We landed yesterday in Lhasa and were met at the airport by our guide Tashi.  Our hotel is a beautiful old house that is intricately painted in the Tibetan style.  I think we were all pretty in awe of it.  I was concerned about how much success the Chinese had in trying to eradicate Tibetan culture.  The drive in to Lhasa made me a bit nervous when we passed through the periphery of the city through the Chinese districts and there was little to distinguish it from any other modern section of a Chinese city other than the fresh air.  But in the old district, it is still very much Tibetan.

I’ve been feeling a little lightheaded from the altitude and have to pace myself while walking.  They say that you have to drink a lot of water so I am forcing water down my throat every chance I get.  Alisa has not been feeling well and ended up needing to lay down in a back room in the restaurant we ate at last night.  She started a course of medication to treat altitude sickness and also got a small oxygen canister from the hotel.

Today is our first day to do sightseeing around town. Our first guide Tashi was unable to join us today and so his good friend and guide Tashi (#2) accompanied us.  Our first stop was to the Drepung Monastery just outside of Lhasa.  It was built in the 15^th Century and has been maintained beautifully.  It is still very much a functioning monastery with monks living on the grounds (albeit a fraction of what it could be) and pilgrims coming to pray at the complex.  The Tibetans are such a devout people, I don’t think the Chinese government could ever successfully ban religious worship (even if they try to ban the reverence of the Dalai Lama).  Some pilgrims make their way to the holy sites by sliding on the floor using blocks of wood strapped to their hands, fully prostrate chanting prayers the entire way.  It reminded me of performing a “sun salutation” in yoga.  I found the dedication, stamina, and humility of the progression of two young boys particularly moving.  I couldn’t imagine children in America doing anything of the sort.  I couldn’t imagine myself doing that either; I would probably get past one stretch, become tired of all of the down, slide, up, chant and opt to bring some extra butter for the candles instead.

For lunch we were invited to Tashi #2’s home.  He also had the beautifully painted interiors which were lovingly done by his uncle.  We started with the butter tea, dried cheese and yak meat.  It was surprising how many similarities there are between Tibetan and Mongolian cultures.  I know that there had been exchanges.  Tibet had once been under the Mongolian Empire and the Mongolian renaissance man Zanabazar had spent a good deal of time in Tibet as it was the center of their religious world and brought back many ideas.  I think another big part of it has to do with both cultures also maintaining their traditional nomadic lifestyles.

After our lunch, we continued on to the Jokhang Temple in the center of Lhasa.  We were dropped off near the Barkhor; a loop of streets around the main square and temple.  Throngs of Tibetans come here to worship and circulate clockwise in the Barkhor circuit chanting and praying before they enter the Jokhang temple.  Aside from seeing a large mass of traditionally dressed Tibetans moving as a single unit, the other surprising thing was to witness the strong Chinese military presence.  Every square and every other street has a military post with a few soldiers, all of whom were ethnic Chinese/Han.   The Barkhor in particular is a heavily patrolled area.   I found the military presence intimidating at times but it dissipated immediate when I was greeted by or interacted with a Tibetan.  It is a tough contest between the Philippines, Syria, and Tibet but I think the Tibetans may take the prize for being the most welcoming people I have ever encountered.  We worked our way through the peaceful, chanting crowd and draconian soldiers and made our way into the temple.

I was absolutely awestruck when we entered inside.   When I thought that the Drepung Monastery was well preserved, the 1300 year old Jokhang temple has surpassed it.  The walls are beautifully painted with scenes illustrating the story of how and why the temple was built.  The murals are in excellent condition despite constantly being near smoky candles and incense.  We were told that the monks periodically lacquer over the painting to protect it.  The only light inside the temple comes from the doorway and the huge candles lit throughout the interior that create a warm golden glow.  Large golden goblets are filled with butter (rather than wax) by worshippers who ensure the flames never extinguish.

We followed the crowd up the stairs to the rooftop to the soundtrack of chanting worshippers and could see the golden spires of the Jokhang temple and the Potala Palace in the near distance with rain clouds gathering.  I can’t put into words the emotions that were welling up inside of me at that time, nor can I fully understand why.  Perhaps it was the sheer beauty of the scene; the architecture, the people, the sounds of their devotion.  I was so thrilled and thankful that I finally made it to Tibet.

Standing on top of the Jokhang Temple with a view of the Potala Palace.

It began to rain, which didn’t deter us much, but more importantly this was our afternoon designated for shopping and we just needed to dart across the Barkhor to the large shop where we will find everything we need.  I’ve been waiting many years to come to Tibet to do some jewelry shopping and have regretted since 2008 not buying the Tibetan jewelry I found in Nepal.  Inside the store they have fake marked prices.  When I was talking with a sales person about the unrealistic prices they explained that they put the prices very high because the Chinese tourists expect to bargain hard and feel like they are getting a big discount.  I personally would have rather have saved all that time and just have a reasonable price from the get-go.  I already knew what I needed to pay based on the prices for Tibetan things in Nepal so it was a little frustrating spending the few hours there waiting until they finally agreed to the prices that I know I need to pay.  Alisa and I picked out a few small things and Ange and Chantal ended up having some things shipped back to the States for them.  We spent several hours in the shop and I think they kept it open late just for us.  We all enjoyed it though; the staff was very kind and accommodating and there were so many beautiful things to gawk at.

Dinner was pretty late tonight since we spent so many hours shopping.  We went to a spot just off the Barkhor where we can do some people watching.  It was there that I realized that we weren’t the only ones observing the locals.  When I went to the bathroom, I turned to flush and got a glimpse out the window.  On the roof of the next building to us, I saw a sniper with a helmet and padding on pacing and observing the people down below.  It saddened me to see the constant reminder that such a peaceful people are oppressed in such a way.   I am actually shocked to see that Tibetans have still been able to retain so much of their culture considering they have been occupied by China since 1950s. I am particularly looking forward to seeing the former residence of the Dalai Lama tomorrow, the Potala Palace.

Alisa and I made it up just fine thanks to our Kung Fu training.

July 22, 2010

Beijing

For my birthday we arranged for transportation so Bobby, Alisa, and I can camp on a “wild wall”, one of the sections of the Great Wall of China that is not restored.  We spent the morning putting together our packs so that we had just enough for the night and nothing more since we had to carry it all up.  We wanted to be sure that our packs were as light as possible.

It only took about two hours to reach the wild wall and I slept most of the way.  When we arrived at the site, we strapped on our packs and started up the trail leading us to the wall.  On our first visit to China together, Bobby and I went to the Great Wall at Simitai, which is known for being very steep.  This section was not nearly as severe in its angles but the climb was arduous due to the weather.  It was well over 35 degrees Celsius, full humid and the smog was so thick that we could barely see the next section of the wall in front of us.   The smog was what really got me.  It made it difficult to breathe and I was pretty dizzy and dry heaving.  What a difference the weather and air quality makes.  Just last week we climbed far more steep steps very easily going up to the Soviet Monument in Ulaanbataar.

We got up to the platform where we planned to spend the night and set up our little camp.  We ate our sandwiches for dinner and passed time playing cards and listening to music on my ipod.  At first Bobby slept outside the tent in the open air and Alisa and I were inside. He gave up after a few hours when all of the mosquitoes started attacking him.  Bobby set the alarm on our telephone to go off at 4:45 so we could watch the sunrise.

Before the alarm even went off, I awoke to a rattling sound and screaming.  Our whole tent was shaking and hearing all the screaming.  I sprang up looking from Bobby to Alisa in between bursts of shrieking to try to understand what is happening.  Bobby bolted out of the tent and I immediately followed.  It took a second to get out since half of the tent had collapsed.  I still didn’t know what was happening, I just started following Bobby as he was running down the wall. I had a scarf that was tied around my waist since it was so hot but that fell off at one point so I was running down the wall barefoot and with no pants on after this mysterious thing.  When Bobby started shouting “PASSPORTS”, it finally hit me that our bags were stolen.  I was still running, my bare feet were burning from the impact with the ancient stones.  I then recalled that our passports were safely locked in our bags at the hostel.

I then began to shout to Bobby, who was much further up than me to stop running, we didn’t bring our passports.  I was more worried about him getting hurt; either his already poor knees or any conflict with the robbers.  He kept on with his pursuit.  At that point, I turned around and headed back to our little camp and checked on Alisa, put on some pants and gathered what was left of our belongings.  We were really shaken up.  I put the remainder of our things in the remaining backpack, strapped it to me and picked up a bottle of insect repellant that had fallen out of the stolen bags to use as protection. It wasn’t likely that they would return but if they did I was fully prepared to give them a big puff in the eyes with the repellant.

Have no fear; my 20% deet will protect us!

Bobby came back after a while, drenched in sweat and had little white flowers all over him.  He had only seen the back of one guy dressed in black running but had no bags. So there was more than one person involved.  We were all eager to just get out of there and all grabbed stuff and began to leave.  As we approached the watchtower, we noticed a fresh bottle of water that hadn’t been there last night.  I climbed the ladder up, armed with my improvised mace to see if I would find our bags stashed up there, which they weren’t.  When we exited the door of the watchtower, we spotted a lone backpack laying against the wall.  I got closer to inspect the bag to see if it was one of ours, which it wasn’t, and then saw a Westerner walking our way.  This man was in better luck than us because this bag was indeed his and they only snatched his ipod but left his passport.

While speaking with this couple, the watchtower man came up to us shouting something.  We were warned ahead of time that he is a bit nutty and charges 2 yuan to climb the ladder.  He was coming to collect the fee since I climbed the ladder looking for our stolen things.  We were all stunned though by the fact that he was sweating bullets, dressed in black, had the same white flowers all in his hair that Bobby did and also came from the same area as the perpetrators darted off to.

The other Westerner who had his bag stolen spoke Chinese and helped us deal with this guy.  He explained that we had our bags stolen but this man was still asking us for money.  We tried explaining again that we have nothing to pay him because our bags were stolen.  He then asked us where we are from and when we replied America, he said in English “Sorry”, shook Bobby’s hand, and darted off back to his tower.  I felt like it took us only a few minutes to hike down the wall and get back to the street.  It was just such a shame that this had to happen, mostly because nearly everyone has been so lovely and I hate having to feel suspicious of everyone then.  As we were coming down, many Chinese were then starting their way up and there were many warm exchanges of Ni hao.

We spent the rest of our day in our hostel room in Beijing watching their dvd collection as a distraction.  I lost my favorite day backpack which they no longer make, my ipod, our cellphone (which we’ve had since the Philippines in 2004), a deck of cards, a head lamp, and Alisa’s wallet which fortunately had only a small amount of money in it.  Instead of getting presents on my birthday I ended up losing my things to some thieves.  Xie xie!

July 17, 2010

Beijing

Our train ride from Mongolia to China really couldn’t have gone any better.  Our friend dropped us off at the train station with our gigantic bags (filled with carpets, tea sets, and paintings) and saw us off.  I was giddy when I actually saw the condition of the train.  Not only were we in a room with only 4 beds that were spotlessly clean, we had only 3 people in it so the fourth bed was there to accommodate our bags.  If we were actually 4 in the cabin, I would have had to spent the entire ride curled up against our rolled Kazakh rug. I just couldn’t believe our luck.  I’ve been very concerned about how we will manage with two very full backpacks, two full day pack, and our large rolled carpet.  I spent the first several hours just giggling with delight every time I discovered something new on the train. A restaurant car!  Clean bathrooms!! TOILET PAPER….for FREE!!!

We spent the first few hours chatting with our cabin mate, a Singaporean Australian, and watching the last of the beautiful Mongolian scenery pass by.  Late at night we reached the actual border and it was a bizarre sight.  Chinese officers in full dress uniform were saluting the train as we pulled in and full patriotic music blared from the speakers.  We were held at the station for a few hours as each carriage got a slight adjustment.  From what I understand, the tracks in China are different from those in Mongolia and so each carriage is raised and given the necessary adjustments while all of the passengers stay onboard.   The rest of the trip we were just amazed at the difference between the Mongolian side and the Chinese sky.  It was shocking how quickly we lost that big, blue Mongolian sky with the vast steppes to the grey, smoggy skies concealing dense Chinese “villages”.  When we actually arrived in Beijing’s train station, it quite literally must have had more people in it than all of Ulaan Bataar.

Emerging from the train station, we were in the thick of the crowded Beijing that we recalled from our last time here in 2002…only smoggier, hotter, and more humid.  We were impatient to wait on the official taxi stand because our overweight backpacks were unbearable in the weather and our tempers were short.  We are always very impatient after long hauls.  Our other options to get to the hotel were to take the metro which was a huge unknown on how many stairs and walking we would need to do with the packs on or to deal with the con-artist cabbies.  While bickering with some of the cab drivers a beggar woman with who had no fingers came up to me and began to poke me with the remnants of a digit to beg.   I gestured to her with my open empty hands to try to show that I had nothing to give and was then humbled since I have all my fingers.  I was proud in a strange way because a few years ago dealing with people who have been disfigured would have made me feint.  I guess all of these years abroad have desensitized me.

Fairly quickly, I was able to negotiate a price for a ride and we were able to get dropped off at the hostel with no trouble.  We arrived at the hostel and immediately put our carpet and one bag in storage and felt a huge sense of relief.  We had a few hours to clean up and rest before Bobby’s parents arrived and then enjoy some beautiful Chinese food.