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Published: August 30th 2005
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From Lhasa to the west, towards the great Mount Everest, or even just to the Nepal border, many travellers wisely opt for a 5 or more day tour in a Land Cruiser type vehicle.
Being slightly less wise, slighly less rich, slightly less inclined to ride in a Land Cruiser, I opted for choice two: public transport.
As it happened, public transport only really runs to Zhigatse, one of the major towns west of Lhasa. It is known for the monastery Tashilunpo, which is in turn praised for being the seat of the Panchen Lamas, arguably the 2nd most important figure in traditional Tibetan life (with the unnamable you-know-who as #1).
From the town with the monastery with the lovely mountainside Kora (also with the glaring lack of public transport for foreigners), I continued west via shared taxi to Lhatse, and then further via hitched Landcruiser (sigh) to New Tingri.
There is an important dinstinction between New and Old Tingri, and it had been made well in guidebooks. Nonetheless, it was maddeningly difficult to make understood that old Tingri was the destination point. However, a nights' stop-over in the New version afforded the chance to stay in
a low-key Tibetan guesthouse, where children dug into my bag for the inevitable camera and then posed charmingly. The grandmotherly guesthouse owner was fair and kind, ensuring i swallowed at least half a flask of tea the next morning, after i'd waited a couple of hours in the cool morning for a non-existant truck ride.
Finally making it to Old Tingri in the late afternoon, I was too late to start walking and catch up with my proposed hiking buddy. Instead, I took another Tibetan guesthouse bed and spent the late afternoon watching some very Tibetan line-dancing. Men and women, old and young, form line after line, dressed in traditional garb, women wearing massive silver plates (with large turquoise studs in the centre) at the waist and the striped aprons worn over plain skirts. Khampa men, with their exquisitely chiseled cheekbones and attractively indifferent and proud poise, wore their red braids wound around their heads). All wore piles of jewelery: necklaces, bracelets, earrings (men and women), headpieces... usually of silver and turquoise. The dance starts slow, a forward-progressing, arms swinging to and fro, stomping dance. It is basic, easy enough to follow, but eventually gains speed and excitement as
Zhigatse rooves
The flat-topped roof is common all over Tibet. The open space is often used for potted plants, washing, storage, wood piles.
In Zhigatse a number of these houses close together are especially striking in contrast to the new, Chinese-built, concrete dominoes that predominate. the music accelerates. I had seen an example of this dance at Dartsedo/Kangding, but there it had been mostly women and, now comparatively, uninspired.
The music: a variety of percussive instruments, as well as some Tibetan banjo versions, with beautifully hand-painted Tibetan symbols, and some home-made banjo-guitars (the extremely basic version involves an old tin soup can, a board, and steel strings).
Most amusingly, during one of the breaks, I weaseled my way into their teahouse resting place and they, like the children earlier, clamoured for my camera. A few hogged the spotlight, but all--bizarrely--wanted to be holding a can of Coke while posing.
Back at the guesthouse, the 2 daughter, 2 son family provided another refreshing change of pace. Like the masses in the village, they chose to spend some time dancing that night, dancing in the teahouse restaurant area. This was especially refreshing because i'd seen so many despondent faces in larger cities (particulary in Zhigatse--it seemed there were more poor there than i'd seen in Lhasa, perhaps the Lhasa poor being kept out of site?) and so much reliance on television.
The next day i set out to catch up with my hiking
Zhigatse house
Although the colour scheme can be found in other Tibetan areas, both inside and out of the "T.A.R" (blech), those in Zhigatse were some of the most well-kept I've seen (heavy tourism in this city) and so very lovely. buddy. Four hours later, I had passed through some beautfiul scenery, of lemon-yellow rapeseed, and rolling barley, and husky corn, fields. There was a small, very dry-earthed village, with the usual array of children who ran out, trained to shout (rather, COMMAND) "HELLO!" which would inevitably be followed by "pen" or "bon-bon" (apparently the French are training them in the candy department). It is sad, because they are poor but not completely destitute. They are thin but surviving. And they catch glimpses of the other world, the world of endless candies and deep-pocketed tourists. And very quickly, for they are smart, they equate tourist with free-grabs. And it is heartbreaking to say no, or to not have candies, but there is also the old dilemma: give what they desire and encourage further begging, or deny them and feel a miser.
The dry terrain from that village became drier, desert-like, shrubs morphing to stones, mid-day heat rising.
Reaching Lungchang, my mid-way destination, passing a group of teenage boys treading a sheep skin to soften it, I collapsed for a thermos of tea and turnip. Well, the tea-lady insisted i take the turnip.
In order to catch my hiking
buddy, i'd hoped to hitch part of the way, until i found him. And with the heat and the pack, i looked forward to a ride for a bit. No ride came. Many children did. They poked and pulled hairs, asked for things, then calmed down and became friendly.
As it happened, no ride came that day.
I tried to be MacGyver, tried to set up a makeshift tarp-tent in the crook of a cliff wall... but the wind won, and i backtracked to the tea village. En route, i passed some tents. And some people setting up the tents. They were guides from Nepal and said i could stay the night in their kitchen tent, if it was okay with the group they were guiding. The Belgians had many complaints, but my staying in the kitchen tent didn't seem to be one of them.
It turned out to be one of the best nights yet: a candlelight dinner of pasta and Nepalese cheese under the thud of a rainstorm and with good company.
The road i had taken forked. Earlier. So, regretfully i turned back to Old Tingri. My time was limited and had i
exercising what
A noisy hooting procession which, while i didn't see in Lhasa, i saw in a few Tibetan cities. Even in the wee town of Tingri, the military makes its presence known daily. Further, in the wee, wee village of Lungchang, some workless military played with a local's horse & cart till they lost interest.
continued to walk, then at the China-Nepal border i'd have been fined something painful.
From Old Tingri i was able to hitch a ride and bus to Rongphu monastery, where one can hike (or horse-and-cart or motorbike or land cruise) to Everest Base Camp.
The hike from the Monastery (which, incidentally, is claimed to be the world's highest monastery) takes between 2.5 to 3 hours, depending on your level of fitness and of altitude sickness. My fitness is okay, alt sickness was never a problem, and some motorcycle guy gave a life half the way.
All the way up the road, whether afoot or abike, Mount Everest plays hide and seek between overlapping mountains in front. Imagine! A monster like that being able to obscure itself.
Arriving at the base camp, a messy affair of tents for tourists to pass the night (and trash, from tourists and locals alike), and passing the mess, one gets the first clearer view of the incredible burg. In fact, to get a truly stunning view, you must enough days to hike beyond the low hills in front. However, even without this time and that view, it was pretty amazing, to
imagine picking your way up one of the most dangerous treks in the world. Last night, I watched a special on Tenzing Norgay, the Sherpa who climbed with Edmund Hillary
( http://www.tenzing-norgay.com/about/tenzing1.html ), and gained a whole new respect for their feat, their feet, and Qomolongma, the Tibetan name for Mount Everest.
After that brief taste of Everest, I did have to hurry to the border, in the company of some untastefully vocal companions who boasted about China's Tibet.
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rob goodale
non-member comment
just a thankyou
Keep well!