I had no idea what to expect of China. When do we ever see China? As Westerners, we don't get to see any movies of TV shows showing contemporary Chinese people. Pretty much the only time we see China is when there's a huge disaster, and with a country so big, there's something bad happening all the time, leading us to believe it's a huge disaster zone.

Old buildings in a new city

All this added to the mystique for me. I wanted to see what China was all about. I haven't seen much yet, but if the rest of the country is like Chengdu, it's an amazing place.

Chengdu is one of the coolest cities I've been to. It's huge (10 million people), with gleaming skyscrapers, yet laid back. It's clean, with no garbage anywhere. It has wide streets, with bike lanes, and wide sidewalks, free of vendors. And there are no dogs. There are lots of trendy shops and shopping centers.

As nice a place as Chengdu would be to live, it's exactly that niceness that makes it not the most exciting of places to visit. There are some sites, so I rented a bike to check them out. Chengdu is huge and confusing, and I managed to not find a single place I was looking for. But I wandered in to some beautiful Chinese parks and Daoist temples full of people drinking tea and playing mahjong. And I accidentally ordered tea that cost the equivalent of $3, when I thought it would be lunch.

Shopper's paradise

The Chinese pretty much expect you to speak Chinese, so it's hard to get by if you don't. I just have to wander in to restaurants, accept how ridiculous I am, and point at something. By doing that I got some delicious spicy dumpling soup for dinner. But the people kept trying to ask me questions. They also examined my books. The Chinese are very curious indeed.

The town is really cool at night, all lit up with neon signs. There's even a huge walking area, like an outdoor mall. But all this gentrification has a dark side. Most of the original city was demolished to make way for progress. But a few traditional Chinese streets are left, and they are amazing.

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The last three days have been breathtaking. Literally and figuratively, as I've seen some amazing sights, but I still can't catch my breath from the exertion. I saw the world's biggest Buddha, climbed a holy Daoist mountain, and slept in a monastery.

Not just big, biggest

The world's largest Buddha is in Leshan, two hours away along a new, deserted expressway. He was big indeed: 70 meters high, sitting down. And he was thronged with Chinese tourists, all jockeying to get their pictures taken in front of him.

I found the city of Leshan to be interesting. A big city with 4 million people (China has A LOT of big cities). It's a little rougher around the edges than Chengdu, but is being gentrified. At night there are people everywhere: strolling along the boardwalk, exercising or dancing in groups, or watching the cultural performance in the town square. Everything is all lit up at night, including the trees, which have green and pink lights shining on them, creating an eerily beautiful atmosphere.

The next day I went to Emei Shan, one of China's four holy mountains. And I realized I had learned my first Chinese character. Shan means mountain, and I recognized it on my bus. Only 9,999 more to go to achieve basic literacy.

Emei Shan was painfully beautiful. Painful because I climbed all the way to the top. Two eight hour days of climbing stairs, starting at 500 m and ending at 3,000 m. It was the Annapurna circuit rolled into two days, and the single most demanding thing I've ever done.

Holy fog, Batman!

But it was worth it to see the fascinating monasteries, shrouded in fog. I even got to sleep in one. It was extremely basic (that means I won't talk about the toilets), cold, and damp, but oozed atmosphere and history.

Even though I climbed all the way to the summit, I wasn't disappointed at it, because I knew what to expect. It was too foggy to see anything, and was thronged by Chinese tourists. It's also a construction site. Emei Shan is a major Chinese tourist attraction, and they have spent huge amounts of money turning it into a world class park. There are busses, cable cars, and even a monorail (!) all the way to the top. Most Chinese people take these all the way up, then pose for pictures in their finest suits and dresses, looking disdainfully at the sweaty, panting foreigner.

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Eating has been an adventure. Pointing usually works, since I'm willing to eat pretty much anything. But I decided to go to a more "upmarket" restaurant, which had two girls in Chinese dresses standing outside the door for at least eight hours. There was a big sign with pictures, so I walked in, and caused an instant scene. The ten waitresses all came over and tried to help me. I pointed at something and sat down. The place looked like a banquet hall. Sure enough, I got a huge pot of soup that could feed six people. Still, it only cost the equivalent of $2 (five times the cost of a bowl of noodle soup).

Pretty pagoda

Dinner at the monastery was also a fiasco. Everyone else was eating noodle soup, but the monk demanded to know what I wanted. I just wanted soup, but he ordered me to accompany him to the vegetable rack, where I pointed at some vegetables, thinking he would put them in my soup. He must have explained that the veggies were very expensive, since they had to be carried up the mountain, and I agreed to whatever he said. I ended up with enough fried vegetables for three people, and it cost 10 times the price of soup (still, only about $3).

I think all this is because I finally managed to stumble off the backpacker circuit (and onto the Chinese tourist circuit). This is mostly a good thing, since there are hardly any backpackers around. I also feel like people aren't trying to rip me off. But it's sometimes hard, if you don't speak Chinese. Everyone assumes that I do, and I'm missing out on a lot. People ask me directions (they are tourists too) and make small talk. A group of happy nuns even sat down with me and tried to joke around. And people get offended when I don't understand, because they think I'm blowing them off. I'll have to come back when I know some Chinese (a little would go a long way).

I leave for Lhasa in two days...

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Too many stairs

I've got my ticket to Lhasa in hand, and I leave early tomorrow morning. I knew everything would work out. I'm pretty excited; finally I will achieve another one of my major goals. I have no firm plans for after I arrive. It all depends on if I can hook up with a group going to places I want to go to. If I can't I can just strike out on my own to a few places. Public transport in Tibet is extremely limited, though.

I think I really overexerted myself climbing that mountain. My heart has been racing, and I've been breathing hard all day. So I just took it easy today.

Tomorrow at 5:45 I leave on the trip of a lifetime...

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Better in person

So I finally made it to Lhasa. I can't believe it. Partly because I can't think straight due to the altitude. Besides the headache, breathlessness, and beating heart, I don't feel too bad. Hopefully I will be OK tomorrow.

I know it's cliche, but it's true. Pictures simply don't do the Potala Palace justice. It dominates the skyline, and is awe inspiring.

But, for better or for worse, Tibet is a province (don't let the term "autonomous" fool you) of China now, and Lhasa is a Chinese city, with more Han Chinese than Tibetans. Modern Chinese architecture has replaced traditional Tibetan buildings.

Tibet, represented by the Potala, has become a symbol of Chinese progress. Posters of it were everywhere in Chengdu, and it is on the back of the fifty RMB bill. TV commercials show it between shiny new buildings. Then there is the commercial with the young Chinese teacher teaching “backwards” Tibetan children, all smiling happily.

Everyone deserves the opportunity to modernize, and Westernize if they choose. If they would rather eat at McDonald's than at a noodle shop, that's their right. Wanting to keep Tibet in the dark ages so we can go take pictures of pilgrims and monks is selfish. The problem is that the progress and modernization the Chinese brought seems to have mainly benefited the Chinese, while the Tibetans have become marginalized in their own country.

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The Jokhang is fantastic

Being here is both fantastic and depressing. Fantastic because it’s Lhasa, one of the most enigmatic and mysterious cities in the world, full of temples and monasteries, monks, and pilgrims spinning prayer wheels.

But all that is confined to the Tibetan quarter. Yes, the capital of Tibet has a Tibetan quarter. That’s where the engine of Chinese development stopped, and some traditional Tibetan buildings remain. In the center is the Jokang, the spiritual heart of Tibet. It’s a magical place full of pilgrims.

But the Tibetans here seem different from the ones in Kathmandu. They seem a lot poorer, dirtier, and unhappy. The monks look especially bad. The ones in Kathmandu all had clean new robes, while Lhasa’s are unshaven and wear dirty old robes. Many of them grabbed me and asked for money. Some foreigners on expensive package tours must have thought they would Free Tibet by giving monks money, but they just turned them into beggars.

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Pilgrim with a prayer wheel

I woke up at 6 with a demonic, throbbing headache. Not all the aspirin in the world helps. I fought the pain and went to see the Potala, the former residence of the Dali Lamas. It really is stunning, truly an architectural wonder of the world. I could stare at it for hours.

Inside it is depressing. Sure, it is full of some wonderful, priceless religious art. But it is just a museum now, and not a living, breathing part of Tibetan culture. A few pilgrims were frantically running around, making offerings, but most of the visitors were Chinese tourists, twirling their miniature souvenir prayer wheels and taking pictures of each other. There were so many of them crammed into the narrow passages I was rather glad to get out.

Later I went back to the Jokhang. Throngs of pilgrims circumambulate it, but the gates are closed, and the pilgrims prostrate outside them. The Lonely Planet talks about the Jokhang as an active, busy temple. I wonder if it’s still closed for the “liberation celebrations?” Tourists can pay to go in, but I don’t want to see another dead museum.

Watch pilrims circumambulating the Jokhang

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These last two days have been miserable, culminating in a three hour IV drip at the City People’s Hospital. But I feel so much better now, and got to see a side of Tibet most travelers never see.

Yesterday I woke up with the evil headache again, causing me to immediately cancel my plans of riding a bike to a nearby monastery. I figured some light exercise might help, so I decided to walk to the Norbulingka, a park with summer residences of the Dalai Lamas. It was actually really far away, through the uninteresting Chinese part of town. A kora, or pilgrimage circuit, went through this part of town. It was strange to see old Tibetan pilgrims crossing busy streets spinning their prayer wheels. Tibetans sure look out of place in Lhasa.

Need a horn?

It cost an arm and a leg to get into the Norbulingka, and was thoroughly depressing. The park was poorly tended, and the buildings were in bad shape. However, the New Summer Palace, built by the present Dalai Lama before he fled, was interesting. The walls of the throne room were covered with fascinating “cartoony” murals. And you even get to see his bedroom and bathroom. The Dali Lama had a Western toilet and bathtub!

I was feeling pretty crummy, so I figured some food would help. I sought out the Yak Café, which took me about an hour of walking to find. By the time I got there I couldn’t move my head without causing severe pain. Plus my nose was runny and my throat hurt.

Tibetan cuisine, while not exciting, is not bad, and if I closed my eyes I thought I was eating tater tots for lunch. I felt a little better after eating, so I started walking back. I made it as far as the huge park the Chinese made in front of the Potala. Since it hurt to move my head, I pointed it at the Potala and stared at it for a while.

When I got back to my room I passed out for about three hours. When I woke up I realized I had a fever. I was cold and had to put on all my clothes, including my wooly cap, which I promptly drenched in sweat after going back to bed.

I managed to sleep in the next morning, and was hungry enough for a pizza lunch after I awoke, but still had the fever and headache. So I went across the street to a little clinic. The nurse there spoke no English, so the medical section of my phrasebook was actually useful. She took my temperature, looked in my throat, then gave me a vile herbal concoction and some vitamin C.

Or a prayer?

A couple hours later I was still feeling awful and still had a fever, so I decided to seek out Lhasa’s City People’s Hospital. It was a huge complex, deserted, and less than sterile. And nobody spoke English, so I never knew what was going on. After wandering around for awhile I eventually found some doctors, and was pretty shocked to find myself being hooked up to an IV drip and oxygen for three hours. But it worked. The headache and throat pain immediately went away. I have to go back tomorrow for another session.

The cost of the medicine at the clinic was the equivalent of $0.75. The cost of the hospital was $50. That’s too much for the average Tibetan, so they go to the clinic. While I was there a parent brought a sick baby in. I wonder if the baby will get better with the cheap herbs the nurse prescribes?

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Going fast

Another three hours at the hospital, and I think I’m OK now. I guess I’ll never know what was wrong with me, because nobody there spoke any English. The demonic headache is gone, but my head still throbs if I walk to fast. Hopefully I will have enough energy to ride a bike tomorrow, because I am tired of sitting around Lhasa.

So I’ve commented on Tibetan people being out of place in Lhasa, but those are the ones a newcomer notices first: the grizzled old pilgrims spinning prayer wheels. But if you look around, there a lot of young Tibetan people, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, working in shops or other jobs. The Chinese have created opportunities that some young people are seizing. But that means they aren’t spinning prayer wheels and creating photo opportunities for tourists. I imagine in a generation most traditional Tibetan culture will be gone, and the people will be assimilated into Chinese culture.

Tibet is changing fast. If you want to see it, you better hurry up.

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Drepung Monastery

It feels good to be healthy again! I rented a bike and rode out to a couple nearby monasteries. It was my idea of the perfect day of traveling.

Drepung was my first stop, amazingly once the largest monasteries in the world, with a population of 10,000 monks! It was also where the Dali Lamas lived before the fifth one built the Potala. The site was large indeed, like a small town on a hillside, with confusing, narrow passages and stairs between the buildings. The buildings were filled with chapels, all housing a huge array of deities. Tibetan Buddhism is so interesting because of its huge pantheon.

Drepung was an interesting place, but it was like a museum. There were hardly any pilgrims, and very few monks, most of whom were playing with their mobile phones. I believe, with a few exceptions, monks aren’t supposed to own anything, let alone an expensive mobile phone.

Wheel of law

Then I headed over to Nechung Monastery, which I found pretty interesting. This was the home of the state oracle, whom the Dalai Lama would consult every year. The oracle would go into a trance, and then make his predictions. Of course the oracle is long gone, but the monastery was interesting because of its fascinating pre-Buddhist murals depicting wrathful deities, gruesome flayed human skins, severed heads, and skulls. There were also some pilgrims, whom I followed, and monks chanting. It felt like a living place.

The relentless engine of Chinese progress was in full view on this little trip. I don’t know how many military bases I passed on the way. The Lonely Planet says the road up is dirt, but it’s now paved. It wasn’t very peaceful because of all the construction everywhere, including more roads. And from Drepung, the view of the modern, sprawling city of Lhasa was quite hideous, and the noise from the city was quite loud.

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An amazing walk

Another amazing but exhausting day in Tibet. I got up at 5:45 to take a bus full of chanting, murmuring pilgrims out to Ganden Monastery. This was the first Gelugpa monastery. That’s the sect associated with the Dalai Lamas and Panchen Lamas. The paved road was along the flat valley floor, but we eventually turned off onto a dirt road that switchbacked up a mountain for an hour. We went from 3600 m up to 4500 m.

Ganden was in a spectacular setting, its white and red buildings nestled at the top of its mountain. As soon as we arrived the pilgrims excitedly jumped out and started on the kora. Without them it would merely have been a walk with spectacular views of the valley far below, but with them it was magical, as they stopped to do all sorts of activities: rubbing holy rocks, touching holy yak horns, squeezing through a holy hole, and even performing simulated deaths at a sky burial site. The walk was a highlight of Tibet so far, and was otherworldly with all the prayer flags and mani stones.

Not too young for Nirvana

The monastery was nice, with chapels crammed full of golden statues, but it was similar to Drepung, another Gelugpa monastery. It had suffered extensive damage during the Cultural Revolution, and there are ruins everywhere. Rebuilding is still in progress. After wandering for awhile, I headed towards the bigger mountain behind the monastery. I just wanted to climb up to where some prayer flags were, but when there is a mountain, I have to climb it, and I ended up walking all the way to the top. Some sprightly old ladies raced down singing as I huffed and puffed my way up to the cairns at the summit, probably around 5000 m. The views looking down on the monastery and valley were breathtaking.

When I got back down I was starved, but didn’t have any food. Luckily I was able to buy some Tibetan potato chips, and the pilgrims shared their Tibetan French fries. When I got back to town I had Tibetan Tacos for dinner (Spread cream cheese on tortillas, fill with meat and vegetables, and roll. They taste nothing like tacos, but they sure look like them), and a piece of apple pie. A perfect way to end a perfect day.

Check out the view from the top (avi movie)

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Cloudy day in Shigatse (hey, that rhymes!)

It was time to leave the big, ugly city of Lhasa, and head for Tibet’s second city: Shigatse. Unfortunately, I didn’t get up early enough to catch a minibus. Apparently, in Tibet, buses only leave first thing in the morning.

As a backup plan, I headed for the main bus station, where a guy directed me to a van. I paid, then I waited. And waited. The people sitting in the van left, and new people came, then eventually left. People kept coming and going, but we never went anywhere.

A moment of excitement came after two hours, when a guy started the van. But then he turned it off again. Finally, after three hours, we drove to the exit... then waited 15 minutes.

When we finally got on the road, things were good, until we started having engine problems. We stopped a few times, apparently to wait for the engine to recover, but eventually the van pulled through, and we drove on the bumpy road through a remarkably desolate landscape. The Chinese are building things even out here.

I wasn't alone on the kora

Shigatse was a shock after Lhasa. Dusty and dirty, with gaping holes in the sidewalks. Guys are furiously building things everywhere, and it feels like an unfinished Wild West town. I walked the kora around the Tashilhunpo monastery, which overlooks the city, a huge, spread out, Chinese mess. There’s a Tibetan quarter, which looks poor but interesting.

After the long trip I was hungry. One of the Chinese’s greatest contributions to Tibet is food, and I had some tasty sweet and sour pork served by a friendly Chinese lady for dinner. Later in my room I met an interesting Israeli hippy character who had hitchhiked from Kashgar without any permits, stopping at Mount Kailash and Mount Everest en route. Amazing

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While Ganden had a spectacular setting, Shigatse’s Tashilhunpo Monastery had spectacular chapels. Hung with thankas, and crammed full of statues and murals, they were amazing. One of the chapels held the world’s largest gilded statue, a 26 m image of Jampa, the future Buddha. It was awe inspiring.

Monks at Tashilhunpo

Tashilhunpo was the home of the Panchen Lamas, second only to the Dalai Lamas, and influential in identifying the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama. The current Panchen Lama is a boy being held by the Chinese in an undisclosed location, making him the world’s youngest political prisoner. Beijing hopes that by controlling his education they will be able to choose the next Dalai Lama.

I followed some pilgrims through the complex while they made offerings of yak butter and money. The interesting thing about Tibetan Buddhism is that, while the monks have ceremonies, involving chanting and horns, pilgrims don’t really concern themselves with them. The monks do their own thing, and the lay people come and make offerings when it’s convenient for them.

Tomorrow I hope to go to Sakya. What makes Tibet so challenging for independent travelers is the sparse public transportation, and the need for permits for some places. Sakya is such a place. I talked to one guy who didn’t get the permit and made it no problem, and another who paid $20 for a permit, only to not be allowed on the bus. The driver must have feared being fined. I will try it without a permit.

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It’s good to have a Plan B in Tibet, since individual travel is so difficult. It’s also a good thing I didn’t buy that permit, because my plan to go to Sakya turned into a complete fiasco.

Polgrims at Pelkor Chode

There were no busses where the Lonely Planet said there would be (which actually happens a lot, as the info in them is old, and things change), so I took a taxi to the bus station, which was crowded and chaotic. I said “Sakya” to random people, but nobody understood me. By 8:30 all the vans left and the place was deserted.

Plan B went off without a hitch. I killed an hour, came back, got on a van to Gyantse with one seat left, and we immediately departed. If only that would have been my Plan A.

Two hours through the plains (it’s amazing how flat it is, but then there are mountains walling the plains in), and we arrived in the big town of Gyantse, which has a Chinese core, and extensive Tibetan houses all around.

Gyantse only has two sights, and despite Lonely Planet’s claim that “it’s worthwhile spending a couple of days exploring Gyantse,” I was ready to leave after four hours. There’s nothing to do here besides see the sights, and Lonely Planet doesn’t elaborate on what’s so great.

Gyntse from above

The first sight was the Pelkor Chode Monastery. Today there’s not much left of the place. The highlight was the Kumbum, an interesting seven tiered chorten (stupa). Each level has chapels devoted to a different deity, with fascinating murals. The longer you look at the murals, the more details you see. There are 77 chapels in total.

The other sight was the ruined dzong, or fort, up on a big hill north of town. This place was the sight of a strange British incursion into Tibet, in which the government ignored the invaders. Today the dzong features an “anti-British imperialism museum” with confusing misinformation about the episode. There are also mannequins depicting the “evil feudal aristocracy” who ruled from the dzong before the Chinese “liberated” the peasants from them. There are scenes of dungeons, torturers, and tax collectors. Despite the propaganda, you are free to climb through the ruins, and the view from the top was superb.

Other than those two sights, Gyantse is an unremarkable town, and I am eager to leave.

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Gyantse Dzong

After coming from the huge, modern metropolis of Chengdu, Lhasa seemed like a backwater. But after Gyantse it seems pretty big.

Getting back was easy. It’s always easier to get back to a big city than it is to get away from it, because everybody assumes you want to go to a big city, and doesn’t understand why you would want to go to a small town. It was still a grueling experience, though.

Gyantse is not an early-rising town. I was up at 7, and it was still pitch black (all of China, even the far West, is on Beijing time). I had to wake a guy up to open the three huge padlocks on the gate to my grimy hotel. All the shops were closed and the street was deserted. I walked about 20 feet when a van drove by and the driver called out “Shigatse.” That was easy, I figured. Unfortunately, we drove up and down that street for an hour, while an ever-changing assortment of people got on and off. At one point we even changed vans, then changed back. I always thought it was strange that you only pay when you arrive in Tibet. But that’s because you never know if the vehicle you’re on will actually go anywhere.

Young pilgrim

After an hour the van was crammed full of chain-smoking guys, and a couple women wearing surgical masks, so we headed for Shigatse. When we got to the Shigatse bus station, which was so busy a couple mornings ago, the place was deserted except for a run down old bus about to leave for Lhasa. It cost half as much as the van I took there, but took twice as long.

Unfortunately, I have to start thinking about leaving Tibet. No visa extensions are available here, and I am running out of time. I have enough time for one more excursion. You’re supposed to have a permit, but it’s impossible for individuals to get one. I think I’ll be OK.

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Getting to Samye was effortless, and there were no permit checks. The pilgrim bus crossed a huge bridge, then the road turned to dirt. We drove along the edge of an arid, brown valley until we reached the monastery, situated on the flat, sandy valley floor, next to a sad little Tibetan village.

Samye Monastery

Samye is Tibet’s first monastery, built in the 18th century, at a time when Bon was still the primary religion. Tibet’s first seven monks were ordained here, and a great debate between the Indian and Chinese interpretations of Buddhism took place here. The scholarly Indian approach triumphed over the contemplative Zen approach of the Chinese.

The layout of Samye is unique in Tibet, based on Odantapuri temple of Bihar, India. It’s a mandala representing the Buddhist universe, with Mount Meru (like the Greek Mount Olympus) in the middle, and surrounding temples representing oceans and continents.

Unfortunately, Samye isn’t looking very good today. It fared badly during the Cultural Revolution, and most of the buildings were destroyed. There has been extensive rebuilding, some done in ugly concrete, but it is still unfinished. Piles of building materials litter the unkempt, garbage-strewn grounds, and trucks and cement mixers sit idle.

A Samye stupa

The central utse, representing Mount Meru, is spectacular, though, with its golden roof. The assembly hall inside is just as stunning, packed with thankas and statues, many of which are obviously new, replacing the priceless relics smashed during the Cultural Revolution. Adding to the atmosphere were monks performing their lunchtime chanting ceremony, and the evening ceremony involving a cacophony of horns, cymbals, and drums. In a courtyard the young monks noisily debated. They paired up, with one monk sitting and one standing and clapping loudly.

I walked up the hill where Guru Rinpoche vanquished the demons of Tibet, symbolizing the triumph of Buddhism over Bon. There’s a small hermitage there now, and nice views of the arid valley. But there’s not a lot to do at a monastery. I outlined my plan for the next couple of days, which should get me out of Tibet before my visa expires.

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Young monk

I wanted to visit an off the beaten path monastery, and I wanted to do a day walk, so I had the bus drop me off in Tsetang, a dusty, soulless Chinese town, the third largest in Tibet. After wandering around for several hours, I discovered the only hotel that would accept me charged 180 yuan room, equivalent to $23. That may not sound like much, but I’ve been paying around $5.

I didn’t have a choice, and I was trapped until the busses left tomorrow morning, so I took it. The room was like a run-down Best Western, but compared to where I’ve been staying it was luxurious. Having my own bathroom with Western toilet and hot shower is much nicer than having to go outside in the cold and down two flights of stairs to take a shower.

Once that was sorted, I started my walk to Trandruk Monastery, along a busy, noisy road, past innumerable walled compounds guarded by Chinese soldiers. It wasn’t very pleasant.

The monastery is part of a network that subdues a deamoness. The Jokang in Lhasa lies over the deamoness’ heart, while Trandruk lies over her left shoulder. You wouldn’t know that by looking at the place. It was free of tourists (and monks), though. Most of its statues were smashed during the Cultural Revolution and were new. There was a board showing the top monks, as well as the supervising police officer, a Tibetan member of a special police force for Tibetans. With an obvious spy at the monastery, I wondered how many of the monks were undercover spies for the government.

Old building

The walk past the monastery was nice as the traffic died down and the ugly, spread out town gave way to fields full of peasants and cows, with mountains all around.

Eventually I arrived at the Yumbulagang, reputedly the oldest building in Tibet, a little castle with a tower perched up on a craggy ridge. The present structure dates from 1982, but it is still very impressive. It was swarming with German tourists who had chartered busses from Lhasa, but it was still very nice, with scenic views of the valley. Inside was a tiny chapel, with a few monks and a lot of Germans.

On the way back I flagged down a bus full of pilgrims to take me back to town. Upon arriving, I had enough energy to walk over to the sad Tibetan part of town, with dirt streets and piles of rocks and garbage everywhere, to visit one of the town’s three monasteries. I wanted to walk the pilgrim path up a nearby hill, but a dust storm kicked up and I was out of energy, so I headed back to my luxurious, private room to enjoy a shower and some Chinese TV. After all, I paid so much for it I have to spend as much time as I can in it.

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A different angle on the Potala

I’m back in Lhasa again, and I’m ready to leave the TAR. I bought my plane ticket back to Chengdu, where I can extend my visa. Then my tour of Tibet will continue, outside the TAR, which is an artificial Chinese cartographic construction. When the ethnic “autonomous” regions were formed by the Communist government, the boundaries were drawn so the minority people did not form a majority in their regions. So today most of the six million or so Tibetan people in China are actually outside of what is today known as Tibet. They can be found in the surrounding provinces of Sichuan, Qinghai, and Xinjian Autonomous Region.

I plan to travel through remote Western Sichuan to Yunnan, which was once the Tibetan province of Kham. It should be better than Tibet, because the people are freer (Dalai Lama photos are not illegal, for instance), there is less of a police/army presence, and there won’t be visa and permit worries.

So what did I think of the Tibet Autonomous Region? Unfortunately, I could only stay two weeks, but it feels a lot longer, because independent travel is so difficult and uncomfortable. I got to see the major sites, and the highlights were the amazing Potala and the magical Barkhor of Lhasa, Ganden Monastery’s stunning mountain setting, and Shigatse’s impressive Tashilunpo Monastery.

Pilgrim girls

Traveling on public transport, I was limited to the cities and a few major monasteries. I would like to come back some day to get further afield, particularly to the holy Mount Kailash in remote Western Tibet, a two week trip by landcruiser.

I was also limited because I wasn’t fully equipped. Tibet breaks all my rules for traveling light. A sleeping bag, tent, stove, boots, and winter jacket are necessary outside of the cities. Due to the lack of facilities and transport, self-sufficiency is a must.

As nice as the sights I saw were, in general I found the Tibet Autonomous Region to be a depressing place, and not just because everything is brown and grey. Tibet is being thoroughly colonized by the last empire, China. There are more Chinese than Tibetans there, and the cities are all Chinese, with depressing little Tibetan quarters. As much as I like Chinese cities, all the red and gold and neon lights just seem out of place in Tibet.

Then there were the Tibetans themselves. It’s hard to get a feel for these things as a two-week tourist, but they seemed downtrodden, unhappy, and listless. I’m reminded of Alice Springs, Australia, with Aborigines sitting around doing nothing all day. There are a lot of Tibetans sitting around too. The monasteries were sad because they were merely shadows of their former glory, ravaged by the insanity of the Cultural Revolution, with only a few monks under police supervision. And I was amazed by the number of police and soldiers.

Light a candle for Tibet

It must be said, though, that the Chinese have done a lot of good. They have provided roads, electricity, mobile phone networks, and schools (at least in the cities). But it seems like most Chinese progress benefits the Chinese immigrants. There would be no way to know for sure, because all statistics come from the Chinese government, which is infamous for producing bogus data.

I believe progress and modernization are good. But the occupation and colonization of a country are not. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to “free Tibet,” because it’s more Chinese than Tibetan now.

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I wasn't having fun

I’ve been stuck in Chengdu for the last couple days, trapped in limbo. I have to wait for the Public Security Bureau to open on Monday so I can give them my passport to get my visa extended. That will take them five days, possibly longer, because of the upcoming “Golden Week” holiday.

Chengdu is pleasant, but I feel lost here. It is incomprehensively huge, with wide, ten lane streets that go on forever, lined with banks, clothing shops, and other mundane businesses. Getting anywhere on foot is impossible due to the distance and the incomprehensible layout of the streets. I don’t know what to do with myself here.

I can’t stay here for another week, so after I turn in my passport, I’ll head for Jiuzhaigou, a national park renowned for its beauty 12 hours away in Northern Sichuan. I should be able to get in and out before the huge crowds arrive for the holiday, and get back to Chengdu just as all the hotels fill up. Hopefully I will be able to find a place to stay.

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Beauty and the beast

I didn’t really want to go to Jiuzhaigou because it’s 12 hours out of my way. Two hours away in Leshan is a PSB office that’s supposed to be “one of the best places in China to extend a visa.” I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I risked it and took a bus yesterday morning, and arrived at 9 am. “Come back tomorrow,” the officer said. So I had to go back to Chengdu for the night. Today I went back to Leshan, and my shiny new visa was ready. Then it was back to Chengdu again.

All the running around was annoying, and wasting four days doing nothing was not good, but one day to process a visa was infinitely better than five. It’s amazing that traveling two hours can make such a big difference. Traditionally, local officials in China have wielded absolute, arbitrary authority, and this did not change with the Communists. The way in which visa regulations are interpreted must be one small example of this phenomenon.

Finally I am able to leave, and am eager to get on the road again, to see more of China. I bought my bus ticket already, and leave early tomorrow morning on the Sichuan-Tibet Highway, one of the world’s “highest, roughest, most dangerous, and most beautiful roads,” for my trip through Western Sichuan

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Silly wabbit

It felt good to get away from Chengdu. I took a bus along a curvy, mountain road through lush, beautiful valleys eight hours to reach Kangding, a large town at the start of the Tibetan world. It’s in a beautiful valley setting. I rode a pony up a nearby mountain, and it is really a peaceful place.

The town itself isn’t that nice, but it has an interesting, rough around the edges frontier feel, and a river rages through the center of town, drowning out the incessant horns. The Tibetan women here don’t wear the colorful aprons over their long skirts, the monks greet me with the Chinese ni hao, and the monasteries look Chinese, adding to the feel that this place is at the interface between two cultures.

There’s not a lot of sights here, but it’s an interesting place nonetheless.

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Grassland monastery

Finally, I made it to Tibet! But I’m not in the depressing, Chinese mess that is the Tibet Autonomous Region, I’m in a little Tibetan town called Tagong, nestled in a beautiful river valley at the edge of the Tagong grasslands.

The town, which is only a couple of streets, has Tibetan style buildings, but not whitewashed like in Tibet. There’s a monastery at one end of town, and hills covered in prayer flags all around.

Yak in the flags

After some spicy Sichuan noodles for lunch, I walked up one of the hills. I think the prayer flags mark sky burial sites, because large clusters of them were blocking something off. Yaks grazed among the flags.

I’m staying in a lovely Tibetan house with a gracious couple, which makes the experience even more special. Part of Tibetan hospitality is offering steaming yak butter tea, which I never had in Tibet. I am very open minded and will try almost anything, but I could not drink it. I had to fight to keep from retching as I forced down half of the bowl. It’s a small price to pay for a wonderful Tibetan experience though.

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It is so beautiful here I stayed another day to walk out onto the grasslands with a Romanian guy staying at my guesthouse. The green grasslands, with hundreds of yaks grazing everywhere, and the mountains all around, were stunning. A few tents were scattered about, and every once in a while a nomad would pass, sometimes on foot, on horse, or on motorcycle.

We were headed for a sky burial site, but we ended up in a little Tibetan village on a hillside, filled with monks furiously building stuff. The people were friendly, and the hills behind were covered with thousands of prayer flags. It was an exhausting but amazing day.

There’s not a lot to say, but there’s a lot to see. Here’s some of the photos (click to make big). For more see the Sichuan gallery.

High plains drifter

Just plain monks

Pilgrims walking

On the plains highway

One photo can't do the beautiful Tagong grasslands justice. So here's three.

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