Kham adventure

Ah yes..I forgot to add that for one hour at Ya Qing monastery I walked around with my special bandanna, the one with the two little eraser sized microphones connected to a recorder that let me get a soundscape of the whole scene....

So..moving on...we were at Baiyu a rather damp little town in a deep valley. The next day we drove to Dege..the roadway runs along side the Yangtze river, quite brown compared to its tributaries...on one side of the river Sechuan Province, on the other Tibet.We came to a bridge. Marty wanted a closeup and was promptly confronted with the police who wanted to confiscate his camera and intimated he might be a spy. Lee jumped in..innocence, no sign against photography..just tourists...it seemed like a tense scene and I wisely overcame a mad impulse to pull out my camera(I was a little distance away) and record this interesting confrontation...no doubt I would have gotten us into deeper waters yet..after much palaver, Marty explained that the digital camera had no film and showed that he was deleting the images of the bridge. However, they did take Lee's license into an office and make a note of it. He wasn't too worried, or at least didn't show worry and later joked that since he was now responsible for anything going wrong with the bridge that he owned it and would collect tolls. One consequence of this episode was that we scrubbed a plan to sneak into Tibet (permits are needed and hard to get) since the consequences of being caught might fall heavily on Lee..as well as our suspect selves.

A good time for a road note: this stretch of road was typical of some hard driving conditions. Remember, the roads follow the rivers. In narrow canyons the road is cut out of the bank and is usually one lane wide. The road may be bulldozed and seldon paved. When wet, muddy. Often with rocks from above. The thing you quickly realize is that for you to go forward EVERYONE ELSE HAS TO BE ABLE TOO AS WELL. The road is used by motorcycles ( no problem to anyone) buses, tractors and lorries..if any of these get stuck it will be a long, long time before they are out of the way..there is no way to pass.

Dege is a high mountain town on the border with Tibet. We had tea and beer at a bar with a Tibetan family having a raucous time, the best part of which was their singing and dancing..they loved the rope trick, primarily because its effect was so transparent and my earnestness so much in contrast that they laughed as they saw through it..

The next morning we visited the famous printing facility. Perhaps you might have seen some film of this amazing process. Two men face each other. Present are long carved blocks of wood with the text carved in. There is a pan of ink, a soft pad to get the characters wet with ink, and a pile of handmade papers the shape of the blocks. In a series of fast coordinated movements, the block is inked, the paper placed against it, the paper pressed against the wood, the paper peeled off and put on a pile and the next paper started...this is incredibly fast, no metal machine could be faster, there is a lot of rythm in the action, and as they rock, they hiss or hum so the simulation of machinery is complete. There are many such pairs going at once, I can't imagine the interior life of the printer but am curious..only a trance could sustain this kind of repetative quick action. The building has thousands of blocks, they are preparing the texts for many communities. Outside women are painstakingly shredding a kind of vegitable out of which the paper will be made and men and boys are carving new blocks. Around the building, pilgrims parade clockwise..

From Dege, the next morning we made our way back to Ganzi. We didn't have to retrace our steps because there is a mountain pass that gets us there. This took some preparation: the pass is at 16,600 ft and I knew that I would be using oxygen to make it possible. I was equiped with my blue pillow filled with oxygen and three back up cylinders. The road was a miracle..of course, we were soon above timberline and the surrounding peaks were above 20,000 ft. We have had the miracle of clear weather, so it was the bluest of skies and the blackest of rocks...anytime I experimented without the oxygen I soon discovered its need: lightheaded, tunnel vision and cloudy thinking...but there were no untoward events.

After we shouted "The God's have had their way" at the summit we descended to Monigondo (sp?) we were at a crossroads. When we were meeting with Professor Niman, we asked about people to look up. One of his students suggested we seek out Guogo, a living Buddha at the Zhugin Temple which was about 30 miles up a secondary road. So we did.
We traveled up a broad vally again studded with yaks and ger..a little like the Sonoma valley if you imagine it twelve times wider and backed by a snowy mountain range. We turned a corner and saw....
Imagine 20,000 ft peaks..they descend by dramatic foothills to the valley floor. Between two prominent hills, nestled between them a vision of temples, village, school..this monastery is the home of the Nyingmapan sect, the oldest branch of Tibetan Buddhism. The home of Mipam and the preserver of his writings.This monastery dates to the 8th Century.
It was 4 pm the light long and low on the mountains. The road into the monastery appeared washed out and we were hesitant to go forward. Another 4wheel car drove up, people were bowing and showing great delight. It was the living Buddha himself. We all got out of our cars. He appears to be in hiws late 30's with a calm bearing and kind face. A nun immediately opens an umbrella to shade him. We introduce ourselves and I show him the tissue paper thin note I have with his name and the name of the man who wrote it for us. After a moment's confusion he said 'Professor Niman?' and the connection was made. We said how much we respected the work being done to preserce Tibetan Culture and offered our cards ( this is a big part of social etiquette: the card is presented with both hands and slight bow). He motioned us to get into his car. His driver and he were in the front seats. Marty, Lee,I and his attendent nun in the back seat...which meant we had to lie sideways in order to fit...what fun..(remember, our own driver hesitated to drive into the monastery the 'road' was so rutted and wet). We went first to the hospital he was building that would offer traditional and Tibetann medicine. Money was coming in from the West. Then to the rebuilt main temple, respendant in gold and painted surfaces..Soon we were driven over the huge complex...I now understand that 'monastery' includes its supporting community..here was a rough collection of dwellings, people tending goats and yaks, serving their own needs and the monks..we saw it all. He pointed to a nearby ridge and said 'Yesterday we had a sky burial there.' As you probably know, the body is dismembered and left for the carrion birds and animals to eat. Whatever bones are left are collected, ground up, burned and made in votive clay figures. In that same ridge, he indicated a series of caves into which monks retreat for days, months or years or forever.The light was getting to that late afternoon alpenglow warmth and richness..people bowing as he passed,Lee translating his Chinese. The Nyingmapan sect has hidden teachings that were revealed in visions and at the same time do not renounce daily living. He is coming to New York next year for a UN sponsored meeting on preserving traditions. We immediately said that we would welcome him if he came to SF.He took us to a special rock on which there was a painting of the Buddha notable for its natural colors. In the last century there was a smallpox epidemic that was ravaging the country side. This painting developed 'spots' on his face and arms. "He took the smallpox on himself and we were spared", explained the living Buddha. Near by was a huge split boulder, the size of two railway cars, on it carved the universal prayer 'Om mani padme hom'. "This fell from the hillside in 1957, and we knew the monastery would be destroyed", he said sadly. Indeed the Chinese Army and Red Guards destroyed the monastery that year. These wonderful gentle devoted people !!?
At one of the temples we met a SF ex-lawyer and some kind of realestate developer friend of his on a pilgrimage of holy sites..small world.
I had a mad notion of trying to stay the night at the monastery...most of my mad thoughts seem to relate to a reluctance to leave where we are..it had been such a clear day that the night was going to be freezing and there were no accomodations for people without sleeping bags and an appetite for a severe challenge..Before we left we returned in his cat to the hospital. He gave each of us a beautiful book illustrating how he became a living Buddha and the history of the monastery. He signed it with his telephone number.
Late afternoon: the hills that he explained were guardian dragons turning deeper colored, the ground covered with little intense blue flowers, people getting the evening meal ready. In the surrounding countryside, yaks being driven to pasture. Families sitting in front of their gers, looking at who passes on the road, quiet descending , night with thick stars in the clear cold night air...In the car, relative silence..each of us lost in thoughts of the sacred...(The living Buddha said 'our meeting was one of destiny' which was true, had he not just then driven up..we would have turned around and left)

So now at last to today...Starting in Ganzi.Rested with a long sleep after getting in a 10:30 pm. Heading south for the town of Xinlong.

Along the way, a meeting of vilagers to discuss some government money..in their Sunday, go to meeting, best. More photos, here the men are as bedecked as the women, with ivory hairpieces, turquoise, coral, amber...long braided hair..

After getting a room we ask about things to do in the neigborhood and find out there is a Bon monastery 3 k away...of course, we go.
{{That will be a story for another time..I have been typing for 2 hours, Just now Lee came in to say Eva had called and will call back, and it is 8 o'clock now and we promised to go to dinner now...so nighty night all.

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