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Published: November 11th 2005
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Once again, an early wake up: 0400. I was too excited to care: I am going to Lhasa, the forbidden city, protected by the most inhospitable terrain and some of the highest mountains in the world, the magical city by definition. Explorers have always been tempted by it, reaching it constituted a major achievement. Very few explorers have made it, many have tried and perished on the way, 12 different expeditions tried in the late 1800 and early 1900 to reach Lhasa, none made it, few survived to tell the tale. It took the British Army, led by Colonel Younghusband and 3000 troo0ps, over 2 years to finally reach Lhasa. He was the first foreigner to ever set foot in the Forbidden city. Very few others have had the pleasure. Lhasa has always held a very mystical feel, everyone has dreamed about it, everyone has heard the stories of the Dalai Lama escaping the Chinese Invasion (or peaceful liberation, depending on how you see it), of Tintin searching for his friend Tchang in a land populated by Yacks and Yetis (the story actually happens in Nepal), the tales of the large Russian expeditions ordered by Nicolas the 2nd. Tibet became the
key for power in the region for many super-powers: the British, the Russians, the Chinese and, to a certain extent, the French. None succeded to govern it, only the British and the Chinese made succesful invasions (the British retired after 40 days, the Chinese are still here). Even the story of those American aviators during the 2nd World War who had to jump out of their B25 over Tibet, as it was on fire - they landed in Lhasa and were savagely attacked by the crowds, as no mortal could possibly look down upon the Dalai Lama.
Still to this day, only very few lucky ones have reached it. I was to be one of the lucky fews, and could not wait an instant more.
We arrived at the airport and, after much checking of passports and permits, we made it to the departure gate. Sadly, I did not get any stamps in my passport. I am most dissapointed, considering the chinese love for forms with lots and lots of stamps (our Tibet permit is a fine example of it). The flight went without a hitch, we were the only foreigners on board and we saw no Tibetains,
only loud Chineses and a scared women, next to me, who was terrified of flying.
2 hours later we broke the cloud cover and descended on a plateau surrounded by abrupt unforgiving mountains. The plateau was surprisingly green. There is a river flowing down the center of it. The air looked dry and cold. The plane landed, to the greatest relief of my neighbour who, by then, had ruined all her nails clutching desperatly to the arm rest.
We got off the plane and set foot for the first time in Tibet. My heart beat was a little faster than usual (altitude sickness or excitement?). We quickly made our way to the spanking new airport, were our bags arrived quickly and we took a bus to Lhasa.
After a most uncomfortable hour and a half bus journey, we finally came into sight of the Potala Palace. Suddenly, the long hours of waiting at the Tibet Bureau, the endless negotiations and the super high costs of this short trip became worthwile. The Potala is a breathtaking sight ! Everyone has seen pictures of it, but it is bigger, more impressive and beautiful than I have dreamed it. It
is not set on a mountain, it is a mountain in itself. More than a thousand windows looked upon us. It looked like a most formidable fortress, oozing a sense of power and defiance. I was struck by its sight. Despite all my preparation and anticipation, I had not imagined that it would have such an impact on me.
We quickly got off the bus and took a taxi to the hotel booked by the agency. As we drove out of the city, we went past the Tibetan quarters - a huge labyrinth of small streets, surrounded by three floor high strong houses, made of stones and painted white with strong thick walls and occasional windows with the rims painted black. All of the houses were the same. Most of the streets are too small for cars and are pedestrian, with a joyous street atmosphere of stalls and pilgrims.
We got increasingly dissapointed and concerned as the car headed out of the Tibetan quarters to reach the ugly Chinese quarters. The buldings, there, are made of cheap tiles and green windows; it looks exceedingly out of place, with no concern for its surroundings. They have even build a
number of truly horrendous skyscrapers. The hotel is a typical 80's chinese construction: walls all of white tiles with dirty green windows, a small and stinky lobby made out of fake marble and dirty, worn, dusy carpets - the whole complete with a chinese sweetheart fast asleep behind the reception desk. We woke her up rudly and showed her the confirmation of our reservation. She wordlessly looked through her numerous forms then handed us the paper back with a small "Meo" ("don't have" in chinese) and resumed her sleeping position. I got mad, demanded to see the manager. He came along, also with blury eyes, a dirty t-shirt and a cheap and foul smelling suit, draging his sandals along. He proceeded to carry out the same actions as the girl, looking through the notes covered in stamps to tell us there was no reservation to our names and that the hotel was full. Immensly relieved, we made it known to the manager that we were furious and rushed out before he had a chance to find us a spare room.
I took out my trusty Routard guide book and made for the Yak Hotel.
The Yak hotel is an
incredibly good surprise, in the middle of the Tibetan quarters. It is a large building with a pleasant inner courtyard, all built in typicall Tibetain style, with a porter in high uniform at the door. The rooms are cheap and extremelly clean and pleasant, decorated in tibetain style, with sacred designs and paintings covering the walls and ceiling. The room has a Tv but, alas, only Chinese channels. There does not seem to be any tibetan channels or even channels in the tibetan language. There is a large bathroom attached to the room, with all mod cons. Perfect, the room gives on the courtyard. A short exploration later, we found the Business center, where internet is 3 yuans an hour (30 cents) as well as the roof top terrace overlooking the entire Tibetain city with its busy life and, more importantly, with an incredible view of the Potala Palace. Bene and I shared a good drink on this terrace, admiring the surrounding fortress consiting of the high mountains and the jewel in its centre, the Potala palace. We also found the Dunya retaurant, on the 1st floor of the hotel, with a pleasant terrace and a large extensive Tibetan, Nepali
and Western menu. We had a most delicious meal there: I had fried Yak noodles and Yak Momos (sort of dumpling with Yak meat), all drowned in a surprisingly good Lhasa beer.
I only suffered very mildy from altitude sickness, slight headaches, nose bleeds and loss of balance, but was quickly aclimatised and looked forward to exploring the city.
We walked about the old Tibetain city. There is such an incredible atmosphere there: it is its own small village, it stinks of Yak everywhere, everything is made with Yak and what isn't smells of it anyway. There is a lot of activity in the village, most visitors are pilgrims dressed in the old thick Yak coats with high boots with Yak felt (of course). They all walk around in the same direction (clockwise) around the numerous temples, swinging their portable prayer wheels and counting their prayer beeds. Not a pair of jeans to be seen in town. I think there are about 20 to 30 foreigners in town at any one time and we constitute something of an attraction; mother show us to their kids, everyone comes to say hello, not as a means of getting money from
us but to make us feel welcome. They often come to us and pull their tongues at us, a slightly unerving sight at first but we quickly remembered that it was a sign of welcome. I now take great pleasure at pulling my tongue as far as it will go to everyone in the street. I often have competitions at "who has the longest" with kids.
We visited a number of travel agents and arranged to go and see a big celebration at a nearby monastry on thursday and to do some white water rafting on the sunday on the source of the Mekong river.
Dinner at Dunya restaurant and late night sleep.
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