Picking a fight with a monk in Gyantse

Sometimes the destination is the highlight of a trip and sometimes it is the journey itself, and when it comes to Gyantse, the journey is certainly the highlight. Before leaving Lhasa, Erin, Maureen and I joined the hotel staff (from the chefs in uniform to the manager) in morning callesthenics. A little light stretching to the sounds of a tape of a woman singing out a cadence in Chinese is a great way to wake up and get ready for a seven hour bus ride.

Leaving town we followed the river along the main Friendship Highway, which connects the far reaches of Tibet all the way to Shanghai. Though traffic was fairly heavy and there is nothing like the smell of diesel fumes, we were driving along a tree lined boulevard. The trees, which were in the height of their autumn colors, combined with a wide river and a flanking of mountains made for a great start to the day and portended the magnificent vistas that were to follow.

Turning off the main road, we crossed the river and almost immediately stopped for a look at a local water burial site. Tibetians bury their dead in three way: fire (cremation), water (place the chpped up parts of the body in a river) or sky (leave the parts of the body out to be eaten by vultures). The way the river turns at this exact spot means that a body will be quickly washed away downstream. In memory of the dearly departed, there is a large cairn, covered with prayer flags. Co-incendently, there is a magnificent view from this point, with the river flowing between two mountain ranges.

Immediately after the water burial site we started our first long climb of the day, from about 3600 meters to 4990 and the Gambala Pass. The entire climb was a series of switchbacks that firstly climbed through barley fields and then to the goat, yak and sheep pastures. As we climbed we discovered the ruins of a number of small settlements and abandoned fields, perched precariously into the mountainside. I guess that the least productive and hardest to work fields are the first to be abandoned in the time of modernization. Now only the occasional family of nomadic herders use the old buildings as temporary shelter.

Crossing the prayer flag covered Gambala Pass, and Yamdrok Tso lake came into view, I had one of those wow moments that comes along so rarely. You need the combination of a magnificent site, the unexpectedness and instantly having it all arranged in front of you. The only two times that I had previously experienced this was seeing Michaelangelo's David for the first time and the dinosaur skeleton in Ulaanbaatar; it is so hard to experience this in nature as you can see it coming.

The deep turquiose color of the lake, flanked by green mountains, with snow capped peaks in the distance is something that will stay with me always. Stopping for a number of photos of the surroundings, I also got to tick another item off my list, ride a yak. I even got a crazy hat to wear while I was doing it. It was great for a laugh and Sarah to a bunch of great photos for me. Sarah also had a turn on the yak and to be honest, we both look quite ridiculous.

Descending the side of the mountain to the lakeshore, we all got out for photos and ended up with one of the funniest moments of the trip so far. The lake is surrounded by small rocks and pebbles and is quite firm to walk on, and if fact there are dozens of stone cairns by the water. I was off taking a photo of the cairns when I hear and exclamation from behind me and turn around to see Nancy knee deep in mud (see the photo below). I guess that right at the water's edge, the rocks dive way to mud and when she stepped into the water she just sank straight down. Unfortunately for her, she was still wearing her sandals, which were now a foot deep in the mud. So holding her camera in one hand (refusing to hand it to anyone) and fishing in the mud for sandals in the other, she ended up on her butt before she could extract herself. We were all trying not to die laughing and more than a few people had to turn away to hide giggles. Luckily, a bit further on, some wise soul had put some flat rocks out into the water, so we would safely walk out to our knees in the cold water and take a photo (and in Nancy's case, wash off the mud).

Back on the bus, the next hour of driving was a kalidescope of magnificent views, as we followed a river through a valley. I cannot begin to put into words how beautiful the drive was. Behind the mountains in the foreground were massive glacier capped mountains, and they would regularly appear and disappear as we turned corners and and dipped down into valleys. The sno capped peaks grew ever closer and more defined around every corner until we finally had one arrayed in front of us and I got a great view of my first ever glacier. With a river of snowmelt at my feet and the green pastures slowly giving way to the craggy glacier, it was a picture perfect scene. I even kicked off my sandals and walked down to the water for a refreshing wade in the water and wash of my face. And that is how water is meant to taste.

Not long after that we rose fairly sharply to the Karola Pass, at 5010 meters and right at the foot of the XXX glacier. Unlike the last glacier, this one was right in front of us and we could watch all the streams of water appear from under the ice and tumble down to near our feet. I was even lucky enough to see a coule of small chuncks fall off. It is obvious to even the untrained eye that the glacier is shrinking and the lower portion may lot be around for much longer.

Descending back down to 4000 meters and Gyantse, we once again travelled through marginal farmland. At first it was really jsut herding, first goats and yaks then as the vegetation improved, cows and a few sheep. At the higher altitudes the farmalnd extended barely 100 meters from the river and a typicall town was just a couple of buildings, with barley and rapeseed being the only crops. The only way that I can really classify these settlements is medieval. The houses are made of adobe bricks and have piles of yak dung drying on the walls, to be used as winter fuel. The crops were being harvested as we drove by and all was done my hand scythe, there was not a mechanical implement in sight. It has to be a tough existance of these farmers.

As we lost altitude and grew closer to Gyantse, the valley floor widened, the area of arrable land grew and the variey of crops expanded, with potatoes and corn spread intermittantly. The grain cros had almsot all been harvested and piles of barley were still in the fields drying while cows, horses and yaks fed on the stubble left behind.

Gyantse itself is an old town, with a fort high on a hill that dominates the valley and an important walled monastery. It, so far, has managed to avoid the Chinese influence and so we are told is on of the more "genuine" Tibetian towns left. There are certainly few cars on the streets and and there are few modern conveniences. Dust and dirt blow down the street and into every orrifice and by no means could you call this town beautiful. Simon and I decided to head off on a quick walk ebfore dinner and headed down to the monastery ebfore walking back around the hill upon which sits the fort. The walk to the monastery confirmed that this is not much of a touris town, as there were few stalls on the street and those that are there sell practical goods to locals rather than an array of street food or souveniers. As a side note, the next morning on the way to breakfast the street buchers were out and on display were whole goats, sans skin and heads and posed in an way that exactly replicated a dog begging for a treat. The greatly upset Sarah until I was able to convince her that they were goats and not, in fact, dogs.

After reaching the monastery (more about that later) we managed to get somewhat lost on the way back. Tsoka had told us to take the first road on the right, the one with the cows on it. In hindsight, we are not sure how we could have missed it, but it wasnt a bad thing as we ended up wandering through some unpaved back streets. These streets were no more than two feet wide in most places and runoff channels down the middle show that when it rains, it would be a pretty trecherous route. We did eventually find our way back to the cow street, which was well named as literally every house on the right side of the road had a cow tied to the front step, just lying in the shade. I have to agree with Simon's sentiment that this is what medieval England would have looked like. With less chimney sweeps.

Heading back to the hotel through a real local suburb we ran across a number of kids that had just gotten out of school and this brings me to the subject of Tibetans and English. Walking down the street people of all ages, from young kids to old people, will jsut shout out "Hello". I always try to turn, smile and say hello back and be polite. About 60% of the time, this is all I hear and walk on. about 40% of the time, primarily from kids, this if followed by "money, money". Now, I know that I am money, but there is not need to keep on reminding me. And then, occassionally, usually from a teenage girl, you will hear an "I love you" and a few giggles from her friends. I will say that the Tibetian people are very warm and welcoming and I am yet to have a bad experience with them.

It is worth mentioning that the restaurant we went to specialized in French and Tibetian cuisine and so I was able to add both Yak Pate de Champagne and Yak Pot de Feude to the ways that I have eaten yak, and to be fair this was two ways that I did not think I would achieve.

Early the next morning we visited the Pelkor Chode monastery, which is q quite spectacular buddhist temple and monestary. Although far fewer monks now reside here that before the communist revolution, it is still a working temple and has that lived in feeling. Built in the 15th century there are still some original murals that are in surprisingly good condition. the monastery is shared by three different sects, each with its own chapel off the main assembly hall and it is from this that the situtation arose that gives the name to this blog.

Upon entry there is a sign that says that photos are 20 yuan (about $3US) and several people, including Nancy paid this. As the tour continued she had her camcorder out and had it pointed into every nook and cranny. Because the three chapels are run by different sects (and effectively none of the entry fee paid goes to the monastery itself, it goes to the government), there is an additional fee of 10 yuan to photograph anything in the chapels. So Nancy wanders follows us all into the first chapel, still filming, when the monk at the door asks her for the fee, and she goes nuts. She puts her hand in the face of the monk, continues to film with the other hand while claiming that this extortion and calling the monk a "crook". Everyone in the group is absolutely speechless by this point, many just walking away and shaking their heads while at least one person tells her to have some respect as this monk is a holy man in his place of worship.

By the time that Nancy gets to the thrid chapel she is once again taking photographs without paying the fee. This chapel is tiny (and contains some really cool masks that are used in religious ceremonies but I took no photos) and everyone is wedged in. the monk sees Nancy taking photos and tries to ask her for the fee, while several people are trying to buy protection amulets from him. Our local guide, Dawa, tries to help the monk out by telling her that she needs to pay the fee, and she just walks out. Sarah, having watched the whole thing in disgust goes up to the monk and pays for Nancy. I guess that Dawa finally caught up with Nancy and told her that she had to pay and she was overheard saying that she was going off to "pay that stupid man", when Sarah told her that the fee had already been paid. I have got to believe that it is bad karma to act like this in a place of worship. I know that I havent said much about the composition of the group, but it is made up of Poms, Taffys, Micks, Belgians, Canucks and New Yorkers. Guess which group Nancy belongs to.

After walking through the main temple we headed to the Kumbum, a 35 meter high stupa that has 108 doors, 75 chapels and over 100,000 buddha images. It is a quite beautiful building, both for the chapels and the fine view that it affords of the town below. Even the keenest Buddhist is not likely to go into that many chapels, so I ducked my head into most of them and only went into the ones that had gory deities or skeletons. Hey, I am a guy, so what do you expect? There was also a statue that I was calling Confucius Budhha, in homage to the sweet facial hair.

Our final act in Gyanste was to walk up the hill to the fort (Dzong in Tibetian), which is easier said than done in the blazing sun and at over 4000 meters. Most of us made it up, however, and had a great view of the town, monastery and fields beyond. From this vantage point it is easy to see why this castle dominated the valley and the town was an important place in the region until the bow and arrow wielding Tibetians ran into the machine gun wielding British in 1904.

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Part of trip: The Big One

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