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Put simply, Tibet is one of the most fascinating and captivating places I have ever visited. So far, anyway. And although some of my friends (who shall remain anonymous…) often mock me for such exaggerations, I assure you this is one not without justification. The people are the warmest I have encountered, the culture the most devoted and unique, the nature amongst some of the grandest, and the history particularly poignant and tragic.

But the following is simply an account of my experiences in Tibet. Other opinions and accounts on “the Tibetan problem” are already well-documented and so I won’t bore you by imparting my own two cents as well. Because let’s face it, no one really cares what I think anyway!

"Tibet" encompasses not only Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR) (which includes Lhasa and Mt Everest) but sizeable Tibetan areas in many of TAR’s neighbouring provinces as well. In fact, half of Sichuan Province is Tibetan! My brief but memorable foray into this land steeped in magic and mystery began in the Tibetan area of Yunnan, which then sparked my desire to go to TAR and Lhasa and see the heart and soul of this amazing people.

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[Tibetan Yunnan]

[Zhondian / Shangri-La]

In many ways this part of Yunnan is even more “Tibetan” than Tibet itself, since it has managed to avoid the insistent Han overrunning of TAR and Lhasa. Of course it was impossible for this area to completely avoid the influx of the Chinese. Your grey and bland city centre is there as always, and interestingly Zhongdian was even renamed by the Govt as “Shangri-La”, alluding to the secluded spiritual paradise in James Hilton’s famous book “Lost Horizon”. Quite a cruel irony, because after such a renaming the Han Chinese tourists flocked here, and this quaint area has now been derided of the very qualities that gave it its new name.

The first impression I received of Tibetans was of vast, genuine warmth. As soon as we arrived in Zhongdian, Tibetans everywhere just stopped in the middle of the street, eyes wide open, completely staggered at seeing these strange foreigners. And though this is not a unique occurrence to the intrepid traveller, what distinguished the Tibetans from other peoples was their smile. They gave us the biggest, most gleeful smiles, some walked up to me to shake my hand; they were sincerely overjoyed that we had come to visit them. My companions and I agreed it was a special moment, but it’s a shame I can’t explain it better than that. I just felt like letting you know!

Zhongdian’s Songzan Lamasery was beautiful too, perched upon a hill in a bowl of imposing mountains seemingly lost from civilisation, a rustic Tibetan village surrounding it, the slow drone of a Tibetan horn resounding throughout the still air. The Tibetan monks dressed in their maroon robes were so welcoming and sincere and accepting of us. The lamasery itself was magnificent with its colourful decorations, gigantic Buddha statues, ever-present prayer flags and dominating presence.

[Deqin]

Onwards from Zhongdian we went to Deqin. My journey to this China-Tibetan border was with perhaps the coolest travelling group I have encountered in my travels. Our original group from Tiger Leaping Gorge (myself, Danielle, Osher and Oded (two coffee-mad Israelis), Anna (a slightly-crazy-in-a-good-way bubbly Aussie)) now included Erik (reminiscient of a Scandinavian lumberjack with his intimidating physique, blonde hair, blue eyes and rampant beard). We quickly bonded over a love of Tibet, a corresponding hate and distrust of the Chinese, an addiction to mountains, and most of all a common adoration for classic rock and roll. As we would hike through the mountains of the Tibetan-Yunnan border, the once-tranquil air became filled with the chants of song, in particular a whole repertoire of the Beatles, but also including the likes of Johnny Cash, Fleetwood Mac, Marvin Gaye and Michael Jackson! I never realised that hiking and music could be such a dream combination.

The bus ride to Deqin was breathtaking too. Our bus wound up the screw-like roads of the mountains, reaching dizzying heights of 4500m. The jagged white peaks abounded the horizon in awe-strikingly close proximity. Superlatives cannot suffice to describe the scenery, some of the most beautiful I’ve seen - another justified exaggeration! - and for me is only rivalled by the jaw-dropping Karakoram Hwy I would undertake later from Kashgar.

Deqin is the last town straddling the Yunnan-Tibet border, tantalisingly close to that forbidden but enchanted land. We stayed in Fellaisi, and though our remote guesthouse had some of the worst toilets I have seen (a long ditch 20cm wide - little margin for error - separated into privacy-lacking metre-high compartments, with an overpowering stench of past jobs filling the air) we had an unbelievable and extended view of the border chain, and the sacrilegious pointed peak of Mt Meili dominating the horizon.

We then trekked for 3 days along the border in a route taking in two quaint Tibetan villages. These were totally lost amongst the mountains, not even accessible by road, rustic with cows and sheep and yaks. The people were welcoming and we stayed in their houses and they gave us dinner. The children were so cute rumbling through the village with their faces smeared in dirt. The first day we climbed to the top of a 3800m mountain, difficult but pale in comparison to the 6700m mountains encircling us 270º. The second day we detoured to a spectacular mountain bowl with a snaking glacier, an unbelievable sight.

After a few more days in Zhongdian I concluded a highlight 10 or so days in this Tibetan part of Yunnan. But far from satisfied I was actually overwhelmingly captivated, and was adamant to delve into the home of Tibetan culture in TAR.

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[Lhasa]

What a magical place this is! I am at a loss for words (a rare occasion, as I normally have a big mouth) to describe how incredible Lhasa is. As if the mere stigma of this Tibetan capital was addictive enough, seeing with my own eyes the marvels of the Potala Palace and the mystic aura of the Jokhang and Barkor Circuit was something I shan’t soon forget.

[Jokhang Palace and Barkor Kora]

The first thing I did was pay homeage to the Barkor kora. A kora is a holy route/circuit that pilgrims undertake to mount up good karma. There are many koras in Tibet, such as around the Potala, around Mt Kailash near the Nepali border (Tibet’s holiest mountain), and even around Lhasa itself. But arguably the most important and meaningful is Barkor as it surrounds the Jokhang Palace/Temple, the holiest temple in all of Tibet (surprisingly not the Potala Palace!), largely because it contains the holiest statue in all Tibet, a dazzling coloured-jewel-encrusted statue of the 12-yr-old Buddha.

Visiting the Barkor is certainly a sight to see. You stumble upon hundreds of Tibetan pilgrims in their traditional garbs circulating the 800m route around the Jokhang. They come from all regions of Tibet, not just TAR, but Sichuan Tibet and etc. They all do it clockwise (to the left), so that the religious monument is always to your right (going anti-clockwise is bad karma!). Many do these koras simply a few times a day, some for hours… some for even DAYS! And all this time you also see these Tibetans constantly waving around hand-held prayer-wheels. A prayer is inscribed on each wheel, and the more times you swing it round the more good karma you accumulate. But as if walking around koras for days was tiring enough, countless Tibetans are seen prostrating around koras like the Jokhang and even just simply in front of it. Far from being something related to the male genitalia as I initially thought, prostrating is a devout Tibetan worship ritual. After first standing with your hands clasped together prayer-style above your head, you then move them still clasped together to your throat, then you get down on your hands and knees and slide out your whole body so you become flat on the ground. But as if the ritual ended there, you then have to slide back onto your knees, stand up, and then rinse and repeat! Tibetans don’t simply do this tiring exercise a few times, but for hours, and days too! It is an amazing sight to see, all these pilgrims performing this crazy ritual in front of holy buildings, and some even circulating the koras by prostrating! Many worshippers bring their own mats to prostrate on, and those circulating the koras prostrating wear long aprons to prevent their clothes getting dirty, and even have wooden slabs on their hands, kind of like boxing gloves, which make the sliding much smoother.

Nothing symbolises the plight of the Tibetans more so than Barkor and the Jokhang. For this beautiful demonstration of culture and devotion is starkly contrasted with the police and even army presence of the Chinese occupiers here. Or “liberators” if you prefer the Chinese side of the story. Around Barkor circuit are police and soldiers everywhere; in patrol tents every 15m around the kora, groups patrolling the streets, soldiers keeping watch from the rooftops, and even spy cameras jutting out from the buildings! Although this is the case all over Lhasa, nowhere is the juxtaposition between the peacefulness of the Tibetans and the heavy hand of the Chinese more evident. Entering Lhasa is entering a city under siege minus the destruction.

[Potala Palace]

The Potala is yet another symbol of Tibet with its imposing location on top of a hill in the middle of the Lhasa valley, surrounded by the bleak mountainscape around, and its brilliant colours and unique architecture; and also because of its representation of the Tibetan struggle. Whereas the Jokhang and Barkor is the vibrant beating heart of the Tibetan soul fighting on, the Potala is an empty reminder of peaceful times bygone, with its former government and respected leader exiled away in India. It is a huge palace of 999 rooms, a random assortment of absent thrones, elaborate tombs (that of the 5th Dalai Lama in particular being 3.7t in gold and displaying 10,000 jewels!) and quaint chapels. Unfortunately I have no photos as they are forbidden, and here in the Potala of all places I didn’t have the nerve to sneak in a few like I normally do.

One of my favourite memories of the Potala, Jokhang and other monasteries/temples is the wafting scent of yak butter and incense that permeates the atmosphere. Troughs full of yak butter with intermittent candles are everywhere, and really exemplify the other-worldliness of this place.

Imagine seeing all this outside the Jokhang, and also around the Potala and in general around the city. The Tibetans have such a committed, unwavering, and concentrated devotion to getting karma. It’s all about acquiring good karma, seemingly the central pillar of all Tibetan traditions, because the more committed you are the more good karma you receive, and the better chance of attaining nirvana. It’s such a different way of thinking; who else in today’s modern world offers yak butter, swings little “toys” around all day, walks round in circles, and gets up and down repeatedly sliding their body simply to win the favour of the gods?! Absolutely fascinating when it’s all mixed together with the secluded-ness of the Tibetan plateau, its desolate landscape, wandering yaks, and cold mountain air.

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[Me]

And although I was evidently awe-struck walking through the streets, the Tibetans themselves were equally awe-struck at me! Not because I was incredibly cool or devilishly handsome (though it would be a valid justification… ) but just because I looked Indian. (For those who don’t know me I’m of Sri Lankan descent). It hardly sounds like anything extraordinary to us, but to them it was unbelievable. Tibetans love Indians because India has helped out Tibet so much, highlighted by their allowing of so many Tibetan refugees to settle in Dharamasala, in particular the Dalia Lama and the Tibetan Govt in Exile. Tibetans seem to be eternally grateful to all Indians consequently, even towards people like me who just look Indian. I became the centre of attention when walking the streets, even relegating Erik (who certainly stands out given his tall stature, blonde hair and wicked beard) to the backdrop. Many men would just come up to me and shake my hand, then walk away! When I was in a bookshop two monks came in, saw me, stopped dead, stared blankly, then smiled and laughed extravagantly, then hugged me! It was crazy.

Crazy but cool, because I managed to meet so many Tibetans as a result. Many whom I met in Lhasa were former refugees who fled to Dharamasala to escape the discrimination and persecution of the Han Chinese. This was no easy task I assure you, some of their stories of survival were inspirational: one walked through the Himalayas for a month without the modern mountain equipment we take for granted... at age 12. But many missed their families and home so much they came back, which was only possible if they admitted to the Chinese that they were Chinese and not Tibetan (huh?). They all spoke English and would always come up and talk to me, giving me a rather special insight into the plight of the Tibetan people... which unfortunately I cannot expand on since this blog will become too long!

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[My Tibetan exile]

Yes I really do have little room to talk much more, but hopefully it has gone some way to sharing my love of Tibet. My friends always complain “your blogs are so long!”, so to please the unruly masses I have had to significantly shorten my rather interesting account of "getting kicked out" of Tibet.

To cut a long story short: a foreigner can only visit Tibet on an organised tour with accommodation, transport, a guide and permits. Which, of course, is directly incompatible with my travelling philosophy. I don't mind it in places like Bhutan or Turkmenistan where it's their own country. But in Tibet these controls are implemented by an authority (the Chinese) who shouldn't even be there in the first place. And I wasn't going to legitimise that by doing what they tell me in a place that isn't theirs! So we tried escaping our Govt-appointed hotel on the morning we were due to leave, to see Tibet for ourselves instead of seeing what the Chinese wanted us to see. But they're a clever bunch, and the authorities were there waiting. After being dragged to some heavily guarded Government compound we were questioned for about an hr. We pleading with them to let us stay, but of course they simply said no and, then actually escorted us to our respective places of departure to ensure we actually left.

That really cuts a long story unfairly short! But anyway, it sucked being forced to leave, because in the following hoo-hah they expressly prohibited me from visiting other cool places like Lake Namtso, Gyantse, Shigatse and Mt Kailash, which you can normally visit on pre-organised tours. And I also really wanted to visit Champa (Sichuan Tibet) too, but at the time it was totally closed off to foreigners thanks to Chinese caprice.

So although during my 7 weeks in Yunnan, Chengdu, Tibet and Xinjiang I managed to stick it to the authorities in my own sad little way, as always The Man won in the end. China won that most meaningful, important and decisive battle, and I left Lhasa supervised, prematurely, and dejected.

But nevertheless... I was well convinced that Tibet is one cool place.

Justin: 0 / China: 1

Next: Kyrgyzstan

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