At the Drepung Monastery, monks’ hats should remind them of the chicken while their shoes remind them of the pig and their belts of the snake. The chicken = desire, pig = ignorance and snake = hatred. These are the three traits that man should be struggling to give up according to Buddhism.
Mao Zedong ultimately failed. Nowhere was that more evident than Tibet. Sure, he captured the land and people must now move from place to place only with the permission of Chinese authorities. Sure, his soldiers ruined many relics and burned irreplaceable scriptures during his most misguided period, the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Yet, despite angering and hurting the Tibetan people, he was unable to break them. While he sought to destroy a religion that he abhorred and labeled a poison, it is possible that he only made the religious fervor of the Tibetan people stronger and unwillingly allowed a previously isolated and contained religion to grow as exiles fled to India.
Our first look at Tibet
As we exited the train upon arrival in Lhasa, we were immediately stopped by a couple of police officers and directed to the side of the building where our paperwork was reviewed and we were escorted along with a few other foreigners to our respective guides. We met our guide and our driver and climbed into the 4×4 Land Cruiser that would be our mode of transportation for the next several days.
A few moments later, we were in the fairly elegant lobby of the Yak Hotel (one of the few places that we’ve stayed in either Tibet or mainland China that quickly come to mind as recommended) and began counting out our cash payment. Cash remains the order of business in China and the largest available bill is a 100 (worth about $16), so transactions like this require a lot of bills. Locals began gathering at the windows peering in to watch us count our money in Nucky Thompson -like fashion. We stopped and asked if this was ok, and we were quickly reassured by agency and hotel staff that it was no problem. Crime is a rarity in China, largely because of the historical harsh repercussions.
The culture of Tibet
Many Tibetans walk around spinning prayer wheels. If the wheel is spinning, you are automatically sending your prayers.
The differences between the Tibetan people and the Chinese people to their east could not be more distinct. Maybe it’s the lack of electricity and modern western entertainment or maybe it’s the religious and cultural resistance to outside influence, but whatever the reason, the people of the Tibetan countryside do not desire to emulate Hollywood or any other land of the West. Men still wear traditional clothing daily, women still braid a colorful mixture of thread into their hair and all still carry prayer wheels, devices that are said to send your prayers automatically as long as they are spinning.
Our trip began and ended in Lhasa. The city is to the Tibetan Buddhist what Saudi Arabia’s Mecca is to the Muslim. At least once in a Tibetan Buddhist’s lifetime, he should make the journey to Lhasa and pay homage by walking clockwise circles around the city’s three holy sites. One tour guide stopped us to brag that he had come from the countryside to his job and had now made enough money to bring his 80-year old father on the pilgrimage to Lhasa. His father, he said, had given up on making the journey “in this lifetime” because he was so poor.
Reincarnation is central to Tibetan Buddhism and worshipers believe that they have been placed in Tibet to worship and take it easy for one life as a reward for past lives. Dogs are generally well fed and cared for as they are deemed one step from human and will likely progress to human form in the next lifetime. Tibetan Buddhists are generous, seeing the Temple as a bank where they can deposit funds for future lives.
A taste of Tibet
Tibetan Monks light yak butter coandles during the Butter Lamp Festival (Chötrul Düchen). The festival dates back to the 15th century, when believers would light butter lamps in honor of the enlightenment day of the Gelukpa school founder of Tibetan Buddhism – Je Tsongkhapa.
We happened to arrive during the Tibetan Butter Lamp Festival, an event that attracts even more religious pilgrims than usual but less in number than the swarms of Chinese military that descended nightly from buses and gave the local Dico’s (Chinese KFC equivalent) the majority of its business. American fast food restaurants have not appeared in Tibet. It’s one of the few places we’ve been with no McDonald’s and no KFC. One Tibetan man told us, “Tibetans had rather go to a hometown restaurant that is cheaper and healthier or cook their own food from the farm. If a Tibetan is seen in these fast food places, people will wonder what is wrong with him.”
We don’t really have too many food recommendations as yak meat dominates the menu in Tibet since it is the only animal plentiful enough to adequately feed the population while surviving the high elevation in both live and food forms. The yak concoctions are similar to leftover turkey recipes found in American kitchens subsequently after Thanksgiving holiday. We dined on yak curry, yak steak, fried yak (both meat and cheese), Hawaiian yak pizza (substitute yak for ham and add pineapple), yak chili, yak burgers, yak butter tea and yak meat pancakes. However, every piece of the yak is utilized, from the skulls hung above doorway entrances to thwart off evil spirits to the dried yak dung bricks that would keep us warm and toasty as we ventured into the countryside.
In a strange land
The Tibetan people stared, pointed and talked about us. Foreigners are still a spectacle. However, once they informed their friends of our presence and heads turned toward us, their glances were always accompanied by pleasant smiles. Historically, the Tibetan people did not want foreigners in their country. The 10th Panchen Lama, the top yellow sect Lama staying in the country after the Dalai Lama fled, pushed to keep trains away from Tibet until his death. We were swarmed on social media by Western political activists who object to the “Disneyfication” of Tibet by the Chinese. Still the Tibetans have come to realize that in a landlocked area surrounded by mountains and Chinese police, without navigable passageways to transport goods, the tourist is one of their greatest potential sources of income and they certainly prefer the Western tourist over the Chinese tourist.
Site of a sky burial with tomb stupa where the body is chopped up and fed to the birds. When a boy turns 18, he is sent to see a sky burial. Tibetan man: “We see the bird as a very special holy animal because you never find the bird’s body when it gets old and dies. The bird that is very old will fly higher and higher into the sky until the sun burns it. Ninety percent of funerals for people in Tibet are by sky burial to the birds from the mountain or hillside. A few people in rural areas do not have access so they have a water burial and feed to the fish. Then a few others who died of poison or disease may be buried or burned.”
Our guide and driver carried several permits for approximately hourly stops at Chinese checkpoints requiring them to leave the car and ensure the police that we were staying on our designated path. The checkpoint entries were marked with specific times which brought about an interesting side effect that we often had to stall for this designated time slot, giving us unscripted stops at places where locals unscreened by the government lingered. These were some of our most enjoyable stops with intriguing conversations. One man warned us, “Everyone needs to find a religion. Otherwise, you are a student of Mao Zedong. Don’t take anyone’s word for which religion is for you. You have to try them yourself but if you do not try them and search then you are with the bad people like Mao Zedong. Dalai Lama good! Mao bad!”
With the good and indifference of a lack of change over time, of course, also comes the bad. The Chinese sometimes point to the “dark side” of Tibetan culture and purported cruel regimes as evidence for why they needed change. On Tibetan farms, decisions are generally made solely based on what’s good for the farm. Thus, we learned that a rural Tibetan wedding also takes place in support of the farm. When the oldest boy is around 18, the father will look around for an acceptable wife for him and his brothers. When he finds her, he meets with her parents and once they have agreed that the family’s home is adequate, she is taken around to different members of his family to see if they approve then finally locked in a room at the new family’s house for seven days. During this time, only the oldest son can enter the room to see her and she is often crying. After the seven days, the door is unlocked, her family and the wedding ceremony will soon commence with one woman and a line of six to seven males, some as young as 8 or 9 years old. When a baby is born, the oldest son is called the father and the other boys are called uncles. Only the youngest son may go and marry later for love. All of the middle boys must share this wife and take care of the farm work. We were told that most restaurant and hotel workers in the city of Lhasa were runaway girls attempting to avoid this fate.
In some poor Tibetan towns, women and children leaned against the glass looking in at customers as they ate. As soon as you were finished, they would enter the restaurant with bags asking you to dump your leftovers into the bag. Here, two children share some of those leftovers.
Our scripted stops included key monasteries holding tomb stupas for each of the 13 prior Dalai Lamas, hot springs renowned for their healing powers, and a journey higher and higher into the mountains. In addition to the gorgeous monasteries, lakes and mountains, we saw villages with no utilities and poor Tibetan mothers queuing at restaurant exits while holding plastic bags and begging for leftovers.
Chinese mainlanders generally point to all the money given to the Tibetans by the Chinese government. The Tibetans, they say, benefit from transportation, utilities and free housing brought to them by the Chinese government. When asked about the scenes of strikingly poor inhabitants and a lack of utilities, these proponents of Tibetan occupancy respond that cities must be kept to a minimum because if you give the people too much, they will rebel against you.
Ain’t no mountain high enough
“Don’t take oxygen because we’re only going to go higher and if you take it here, you’re going to need it for 24 hours a day there,” our tour guide warned us throughout the journey as we passed other Westerners returning from pharmacies with canned oxygen. We stuck with the proven antidote, Coca-Cola, to help ease the elevation-induced headaches.
Though the Mount Everest Base Camp was closed, we were able to get some wonderful view of the world’s tallest mountain,
Although Mount Everest Base Camp had been closed by Chinese authorities for winter weather, our night on the edge of Mount Everest proved to be memorable. In a town with no electricity or plumbing, we huddled in the hotel “restaurant,” staying warm while the stove in the center of the room burned dry bricks of yak dung. Most of us slept on sofas that lined the perimeter of the serving area rather than retreating to our unheated rooms in freezing conditions.
A once in a lifetime trip
From Mount Everest, we retraced our steps back to Lhasa and returned to our home in Mainland China, saving neighboring Nepal for another adventure. Our trip to Tibet proved worthwhile, escaping modern Western life for a few days away from the easy access of McDonald’s, KFC and high-speed Internet, away from even basic plumbing and electricity.
