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Published: October 9th 2006
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Spot the Mama
Can you find her? We came along to this high land upon the newest railway in the world, just built and opened this July 2006. The scenery changing as we crossed from Sichuan into the Tibetan plateau, from scrupulously utilized farmland --every inch of space used to plant either rice, corn, peanuts, or vegetables-- to the endless expanses of land on the plateau, nearly devoid of people but rich in plant and animal wildlife. Clean air, thin on oxygen but filling the whole self with unfiltered sunshine and clarity.
The abounding wilderness and the freshness of it all, untainted by people for the most part, struck us profoundly. The once-a-week train was still a novelty to these parts, and people would stop their work in the barley fields and wave at the train in groups. Smiling broadly, beautiful people, children and elders alike. We wave back, but it is with a feeling of despair, for this railroad track we are riding on all high and mighty is the newest construction of a Chinese government that wants to populate Tibet with Chinese, to offer a quick and easy, affordable way to import Chinese culture, people and presence into these remote mountains.
Those mountains, the
Quomolangma Range
Here she is again with her relatives. way they look as though they just --I don’t know-- so completely separate from the rest of the environment. Solitude. The sacred lake. Tibet is kind of bejeweled by all this natural phenomena that look completely alien: turquoise lakes and these huge mountain ranges with white ice caps that just dazzle the senses. And the people are likewise bejeweled, wearing great chunks of amber, coral, turquoise, bone, around their necks or stuck into huge coils of black hair. The Tibetans’ clothes are striking, bright colors in stripes, with many cloaks of tie-around woolen shawls that the women wrap around their middle. Pinks, turquoises, bold greens, standing out against the muted colors of the arid landscape. The brown skin of these people, leathery and dry from an early age, the hot sun and air made twenty-five year-olds look forty-plus, with beautiful smile lines.
And half the time you wonder whether you’re breathless from the altitude or from the visual majesty of the environment. Is there a scientific explanation for your state or is it just your raw senses touching the environment and making you come over all emotional and totally present. And how you feel you’re on a time limit
as your energy levels sort of ebb away... and you know you have to get out of that place. There’s something deeply spiritual about Tibet, but I didn’t find it in the idols, the temples, and in the imported religious dogma of Buddhism.
The people you meet in the mountains and fields, the simple farmers, venerate the Dalai Lama as a god, though to see them they have next to nothing, and their idol is flying around the world talking with pop stars and TV show hosts... a world so far from theirs. Our driver had a picture of the Dalai Lama on his swanky mobile phone. And to tour the Potala Palace is to see riches of artifacts encrusted in gold and precious jewels, alongside shrines and tombs of former Lamas, encrusted with rubies, sapphires, opals, and coral. To step outside in the streets below the opulent home of Buddhist royalty is to walk with the hordes of simple pilgrims spinning prayer wheels and chanting everywhere they walk, but carrying ruddy-faced babes on their backs, or being tagged along by a runny-nosed kid dressed in colorful rags.
We met with people far out in the countryside, in
Distant Homes
Many villages have no electricity or roads (other than footpaths) that reach them. villages not even wired with electricity. Shared yak butter tea with some farmers taking a midday break from harvesting barley to host us as we rested from our day on horseback and to share a dance by M done to a Jew’s harp tune played by R. Took a morning in the cool air and hot sun to dance and make music with two groups of local kids in New Tingri, they flexed their English skills and we shared what we could without drawing attention from the military.
The Chinese military presence. Checkpoints around Mt. Everest National Nature Reserve. Waiting at one entrance, R curiously observed one uniformed officer walking away from the fort with a huge bag of rubbish over his shoulder. Just heading out into the gorgeous landscape...where could he be going? There was only a pristine sparkling river and green tundra out there, but the soldier kept walking, walking, down over a small embankment, where he stopped and... OHhhh! Yes, folks, he’s dumping the rubbish straight into the river. That’s right, here’s the Chinese military for you, taking responsibility for the remote and endangered natural landscape unique to this highest mountain range in the world.
Old Tingri Campsite
Quomolangma (Everest, also known as the Great Mother)in the distance. We climbed to Everest base camp in the freezing morning air and M had a dance. Sweet yak milk tea from a tent by the path, and found some quartz crystals. Walking back we determined to do something about the mass quantities of coca-cola cans, water bottles, gum wrappers, noodle packets and cigarette boxes scattered along the whole of the path. Taking an extra few hours to sort it out, we arrived back to our guesthouse at Rongpuk Monastery laden with bags of gooey nasty dried out rubbish. Luckily we found a big feedsack as well as several carrier bags to stuff all the stuff in.
Unforgettable was also the sheer numbers and quantity of trinkets and beads heaped onto street stalls featured at the market in the center of Lhasa. And almost everything looked like it was authentic, hundreds of years old-- silver, bone, stone, horse armor, saddles, belt buckles, mandala paintings, swords, knives, sea creatures and deities and figurines carved in semiprecious stone... Necklaces with fist-sized chunks of amber and turquoise. Chinese tourists in droves in there haggling for all they’re worth, and with a certain air of superiority like they run the place...which they do.
Hi Ho Silver -- Away!
R riding on the top of the world. And all the time the mountains and the sky... always there, a constant reminder/ anchor into beauty and peace.
m+r
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big j totnesian
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dude!
Respect! is that your old half manner tent in photo of tinrei campsite ? blown away looks spectacular feel the force love ya both the skies' the limit xxxx