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Published: November 30th 2007
Jokhang Temple
A golden Buddha keeps an eye on the temple's many and varied tea flasks.Lhasa - yak butter eaten from a torn Sprite bottle, incense smouldering in brass pots, smoke suffusing the air with the smell of devotion, that thin air, hard to breathe. Girls, women, men and boys, all dressed proudly in patterned jackets, long skirts, satin coloured, some half on- half off. Babies nestled in thickly swaddled backpacks, mother's hair braided with jewellery adorning the jet black, father's hair just as ornate. The hair so carefully braided, is coming undone after a day's pilgrimage. Sun burnt, leather, lined faces, pink cheeks, rouge sometimes substituting that sun broken pinkness; old ladies swirling tasselled hand-held prayer wheels and muttering under their breath. Wild west buildings, women wearing cowboy hats. The city is nestled among big craggy mountains, some snow-topped, others sandy brown.
I know I'm stating the obvious, but you get the impression that nobody in China really wants you to go to Tibet. Bruce Lee our tour guide in Xi'an screwed up his eyes in puzzlement and said, 'why you go there? It cold.' Our hostel refused to entertain our queries and redirected us to another hostel where we were quoted an extortionate amount of money to get the mysterious 'Tibet Permit' that
Chinese Authorities are supposed to grant before you head there. We were told we would have to pay for a personal guide and car each day, regardless of whether we would use it. They also shrugged when we asked how long it would take to get the permit, 'depends' she said, 'five, maybe seven days.'
We waited until Chengdu and tried again. The staff in the hostel weren't terribly enthusiastic about getting the permit for us either, and they made us read many pages of confusing text outlining options that we just didn't understand. From research, it appears that permits are granted only if you go on a tour, and as there have been a number of incidents where foreigners have placed 'Free Tibet' signs where the authorities feel they shouldn't have, the restrictions are being enforced. After we came back, the lady in our next hostel, who was very friendly, dried up her questions when we said where we had been.
A tour guide wasn't really an option - we just didn't have enough time to take full advantage, and besides it is quite expensive and you don't really have the freedom to choose what you'll do
yourself - so we ended up taking a slightly nodnodwinkwink 'unofficial' way, which somehow meant that we would be a tour of 'two' and if anybody asked where the tour-guide and jeep were at check-in, well, tough, no Tibet for us. At least I think that's what happened, as we never saw our permit, and as part of this package we were escorted to the check-in by a Chinese man who talked to the lady at the desk and then disappeared, we never saw him again.
The air of mystery and guarded entry made me feel a little on edge at times - I think I was just over-reacting, but maybe I was having flash-backs to Alan being asked for his papers in Red Square, and the over-zealous use of 'Papieren, Bitte' in WW2 films throughout my childhood - so any time we passed the many (and there are MANY) Chinese military bases or wandering aimless soldiers in this Garrison town with a very low population, I was waiting for a tap on the shoulder. Thankfully, it never came - although on the backpacker circuit you do hear a lot of 'well, this French couple a guy in my
Potala Palace
This magnificent palace overlooking the city is the former abode of the Dalai Lama. dorm met were asked for their permit...'.
Tibet is amazing - the minute we touched down (flight was spectacular, lots of snow-capped mountains peaking through heavy clouds) it was clear that the scenery, if not the lack of oxygen, was going to take our breath away. An airport bus brought us into Lhasa city centre past orangey-brown mountains, lakes and the bluest skies we had seen since Japan. We listened to our iPods and Alan played 'Higher than the Sun' by Primal Scream, while I listened to 'Lift me up' by Moby - ok, tacky as hell, but really cool at the same time. Ah - you'd have to have been there.
Lhasa was crazy - the first thing we saw was Potala Palace, an amazing 13 storey building built in the 16th century, it's bright red and white and set atop of a hill, imperiously looking over the city. Walking to our accommodation, which had been recommended, it was impossible not to do the wide-eyed stare as the people, bustle and general organised chaos of the Tibetan part of the city was like nothing either of us had seen before. That said, the majority of Tibetan people
Approaching Tibet
Snow-capped peaks in a sea of cloud. This view reminded me of some of the zen gardens we'd seen in Japan. are actually themselves on pilgrimage (or holiday...) and they got no end of enjoyment from staring at our pink heads, over-stuffed back-packs and general get up. While we felt guilty taking a few pictures of them, they also took a few pictures of us, on their camera-phones. There were monks, old ladies, butchers hacking into yaks, rickshaw drivers shouting 'hello' and by the time we reached the Banak Shol hotel we were exhausted.
Inside, in classic Tibetan style, the twenty or so workers and general hanger arounders were having a cup of tea and a chat. One of them reluctanctly extracted herself and came to our assistance, with a 'yeahyeahyeahyeah' she gave us a lovely room, or so we thought, falling asleep even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Later we discovered a scratchy animal lived in the ceiling space, which we were fine about as he (lets call him Fred) was just having an old stroll - ok, I admit it, I was doing the whole 'I'm a back-packer now, fearless.' Did it work?
We headed out and had a wander, discovering for ourselves the already very much discovered 'Summit Café' (best carrot cake EVER)
The streets of Lhasa
The Tibetan side of town and drank coffee, chai and munched cake merrily. Later we returned to the room, and turned on the heater (it was freezing), much to Fred's excitement. Now, anyone who knows me, probably knows my love of animals that are small and rhyme with 'mat' doesn't exist, pho-bi-a might be a understatement. I watched the cartoon Ratatouille recently (nice cheap version sold to me by a man on a rickshaw looking over his shoulder) with my eyes half closed.
Anyway, maybe Fred wasn't a mat, who knows. Or maybe he was a friendly mat such as the mat in Ratatouille in search of company on a cold night, I don't know, I don't care, I wasn't feeling friendly. Whatever Fred was, he became terribly excited, which resulted in me getting terribly excited and Alan trying to shush us both down. He was doing a good job, until he walked around the room and noted the following, 'that's mad, whatever it is, it seems to be following me around - jaysus, he's right over my head now. It's uncanny how he can sense my movement.'
Alan looked at me as though he was a nature enthusiast who had just discovered
At the Summit Cafe
Aoife contemplates another mug of coffee a rare flower. 'Jaysus' I thought, 'I hate him, does he have no conception of my deathly fear of this situation - ten years and he doesn't know yet - MEN!!!!' and yet, as he was the only living creature I half trusted I jumped in his direction with fear.
Fred must have taken this as a Cead Míle Fáilte as he then began to attack the ceiling tile with more fury and naked enthusiasm than ever before, and then (eeeeek) something happened, Alan maintains the ceiling tile was buffetted by Fred resulting in debris falling. I swear I saw a little nail, or claw poking through the tile. It doesn't really matter, as we both scarpered down to the Reception and interrupted another tea party.
In fairness, the lady said she would move us the next day, maybe. Then Alan said there were animals in the ceiling and I made scratching motions with my fingers. We were moved to room 108. I'd say the lady thought we were fierce wimps, and she's probably right, but I was so glad to leave Fred behind. Alan says he wasn't actually frightened, just frightened for me. Hmmm.
The next
day we headed out again, wandering the streets and making the 'kora', or pilgrim's circuit of Jokhala Temple - basically just joining hoards of people all dressed in ethnic clothes and walking clock-wise around the temple. Cue lots of people saying 'Hellooooo' and then laughing when you say 'Hello' back, and people saying 'yakyakyakyak' whilst trying to sell you t-shirts. Every single centimetre was crowded with intrigue - from the mountains, to the colourful outfits, the buildings. It was exhausting. Even the smells were so different - the Tibetans love to melt Yak Butter, and eat the stuff too, resulting in a sort of sweet-sour milky smell permeating the air. Coupled with that, really smoky incense burns in vats, creating a spicy/herby smell.
At night we sampled Yak in many formats - steaks, sizzlers, even pizza (mmm) - it was delicious. The staff in the restaurant we went to most were real characters - four girls who enjoyed gossiping and singing together and you got the impression they found the customers an irritating if occassionally amusing distraction from hanging out together - they also liked to practice their english on us, getting a giggle from their mates whenever they
Yak butchers
butcher yaks. This was just one of many such establishments! pronounced something in what they saw as funny fashion - they loved to say 'yeahyeahyeahyeah' when you were facing them, but then as you walked off saying 'thanks' they would burst into a loud 'have a nice daaa-aaa-aaa-aaaaaay' or 'have a nice tr-eeeeeeeeeep' or 'seeeeeeeeeee you again soooooooooooooon' rising very high at the end and smothering their laughs as they did so.
One American Star Trek fan (he had a loud voice, I couldn't help overhearing) lost it altogether at one of the girls working there, he started off booming his very specific order, saying he wanted a 'small' bowl of butternut squash soup, but the girl cut him dead, shaking her head and saying 'nononono', insisting it only came as a 'big' bowl. Their interaction lasted many minutes, back and forth, and it was really funny watching him getting all flustered and annoyed while she cooly arched her eyebrow and stood her ground, 'nononono' the soup comes in that bowl, deal with it, eat it Mister, I've better things to do, I want to sing with my mates. The American was certainly not used to being told that he couldn't get his soup in the vessel of his
choice, or at least getting an apology or some rationale. In the end he sheepishly suggested altering his soup choice to minestrone, and she was feeling kind, as when he asked her if that came in a small bowl she said, 'yeahyeahyeahyeah, Minestrone small bowl' and yawning, tired of him, turned on her heels and went off humming a tune.
There's a real mix of the old and new in Lhasa - Monks on mobile phones, wearing Nike runners; children snuggled in blankets on their mum's back while their mum eats some Yak Butter. Women younger than me looking at traditional clothes as though they were couture, while a street away Vera Moda have a shop (which was empty every time I went by). Tourists like ourselves coming in and demanding small bowls of soup and carrot cake - note: I don't demand carrot cake, but if it's for sale, I like to support local business (!).
Ah Lhasa, Tibet. I know it's a cliche but the place does make you meditate and ruminate. Sorry to bore you, but it's par for the course, go to Tibet, warble on for a while. But at least I'm getting it
Incense and wall-carvings
Along the route of the Barkhor kora off my chest now, so I won't bore you all when I get home!
Tibetan men driving old tractors that belch steam and 'putt-putt' with the strain of pulling huge trailers filled with children, being over-taken by dark-tinted windowed SUVs driven by men with sun-glasses blaring dance tracks. It seems really unfair. And yet there I am feeling great to have the chance to see these guys driving their tractors. The guilt of travel.
Jeez Louise, I don't have the answers. It makes you tired though, being in Tibet. I got the feeling that it will be a different country if I visit again in ten years time. It was a privilege to have my mysterious 'Tibetan Permit' either way, and I did enjoy the carrot cake, and watching the poor farmers. Guilt.
One day we rented a jeep to bring us to Yamdrok lake, a spectacular torquoise lake at the base of mountains, which meant a huge drive up windy mountain passes - our driver was a bit of a speed-freak, so we felt as though we were on Colin McCrae - stopping at the top and then free-wheeling down to the bottom. On the way
to the lake we passed small villages with traditional Tibetan houses, complete with ornate coloured doors, incense burning stoves, haystacks and free-range animals. Some mountains on the way were heavily decorated with coloured paint and sacred images. When we reached the summit and looked down on the lake, we were stunned at its colour.
Tibet made us remember just how beautiful Ireland is, with its lakes and mountains. I kept thinking of Caherciveen and the Ring of Kerry as we wound our way up the mountains - nope it wasn't Aoife Ní B's driving I was thinking of! :D - and the Lakes of Killarney, as well as Fanad Head in Donegal. The smell of burning wood brought me back to Foyagh and putting turf on the range on a nice cold Spring morning, while reading a good book. The Tibetan people reminded us of the Mongolians and their laid-back attitude to life, while also being terribly proud of their culture and heritage. Maybe there's something in that - Mongolia, Tibet and Ireland - three proud little nations, not very densely populated, with spectacular scenery.
We saw signs posted around looking for travel buddies, and were asked by
Us overlooking Yamdrok lake
It was harder to breathe at this altitude, and very cold indeed! a Scandinavian guy if we would go further into Tibet, to the Nepalese border. I would love to, we were tempted. Not this time unfortunately (too darned cold and you need more 'Permits' - why? I don't know) but maybe in the future, to get fitter and climb to Everest Base-camp. Now that would be a story to tell.
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Ciarán
non-member comment
A discrepence....
"Now, anyone who knows me, probably knows my love of animals that are small and rhyme with 'mat' doesn't exist, pho-bi-a might be a understatement." Hmmmmm you don't like the 'cats' anymore???