Tibet, China

September 11-27, 2003

 

(NikiAnne’s journal entry September 12) From the airplane the tips of the snow-capped mountaintops poked up from the top of the cloud cover. This wasn’t China, it couldn’t be… I was in a whole new world with a whole new attitude.

 

Our first flight from Chengdu at 7am was turned back half way due to bad weather in Lhasa. We spent the next 5 ½ hours in the Chengdu airport, hoping that the conditions would get better, allowing us to arrive in Lhasa that same day. Our wishes were answered and Round 2 proved successful, landing into the Lhasa airport at 4pm.

 

The landscape prior to our landing and surrounding the airport, situated 92km west of Lhasa itself, was simple yet rewarding. The hills were a shade of brown that passed as army green when the light hit them right. The blue sky and fluffy white clouds scattered here and there seemed to say, “Welcome to Tibet, we’re glad you made it.” As we stepped off the plane the sun greeted us immediately, beating down on us we quickly made our way to the shade near the outdoor baggage carousel fully aware that we didn’t have any sunscreen on as yet. This was the strongest sun I have ever felt or been under in my life, and although the sun’s rays were warm and welcoming upon arrival, it was also apparent that these same rays are torturous and brutal when you’re not careful.

 

The hour and a half bus ride into the city was a beautiful introduction to the Ü province of Tibet. The road was lined with small villages on the northern side of the bus where we were sitting. The buildings were built out of gray brick or cylinder block, held together by an earthy mix of cement. They seemed primitive yet cared for. Each rooftop was adorned with an altar of prayer flags that hung from a collection of carefully placed branches. The locals were hard at work on their daily chores: harvesting crops, removing dirt from the flooded roadway, caring for kids, and sweeping their walkways. Their clothes were eye-catching. Women were dressed in full-length skirts or dresses of dark solid colors. The front of their skirts were colorfully decorated by an apron, sometimes of silk, but most often of wool or cotton, tied at the waist. The monks and nuns were wrapped in brick red colored robes and most had shaved heads. The skin of Tibetans is dark and rich with life, weathered by the sun and winds yet kept youthful by their faith and hopes.

 

We were, as every person entering Lhasa is, greeted by the astounding and majestic Potala Palace, the former residence of the Dalai Lama. As the highest palace in the world, towering 3,817 meters (12,520 feet) above sea level, the Potala reminds all upon entry who the most revered authority is in Tibet, despite China’s best efforts. More than anything else, the Potala symbolizes Tibetan Buddhism and its central role in the traditional administration in Tibet.


In the 7th century, a small meditation pavilion was built on the future site of the Potala, followed later by a palace. During the 9th century these buildings were destroyed after lightning set them on fire. On the orders of the 5th Dalai Lama construction was started in 1645, but he died before the Red Palace was started. However, before dying he asked his Prime Minister (Regent) to keep his death secret lest construction work be discontinued. The Prime Minister found a monk who resembled the deceased and thus was able to conceal the death until all 13 stories had been completed. From the time of the 5th Dalai Lama onwards, the Potala became the official winter residence of successive Dalai Lamas.

 

During the 1959 Tibetan uprising against Mao Zedong’s communist takeover of Tibet, Mao’s army shelled the Potala, causing much damage.

 

Built of wood, earth and stone, the Potala has 13 stories rising over 117 meters high. The whole structure is a maze of rooms - over 1000 of them, with 10,000 shrines and some 200,000 statues. No steel frame or nails were used in its construction. Stones were lugged in on donkey-back, or on the backs of humans. Simple equipment was used to fashion a skyscraper - an achievement on par with the building of the pyramids.


The Potala houses seven mausoleums, which contain the remains of the 5th to the 13th Dalai Lamas (with the exception of the 6th), with their salt-dried bodies placed in individual chortens, which are covered with stupendous amounts of gold plating, and inlaid with diamonds, pearls, turquoise, agate, and coral. The 5th Dalai Lama's chorten is covered with 3700 kg of gold. His chorten is 20-meters high, rising through three stories. Nearby is the tomb of the 13th Dalai Lama, 22-meters high and made of silver, covered with gold leaf and precious stones.

 

(Excerpts reprinted from: Tibet: A Travel Survival Kit by Michael Buckley and Robert Strauss, published by Lonely Planet, 1986.)

While the Potala may be the most revered building in Tibet, the Jokhang is Tibetan Buddhism's most sacred temple, and our friendly guesthouse, The Pentoc, meaning useful, beneficial and helpful in Tibetan, was only one block away from the Jokhang Square in Old Lhasa. The street in front of our place was literally non-existent. Where the road would have been was a dirt trench 5 feet deep. It was rumored that the street needed to be torn out to fix some water pipes beneath it, but I have never in my life seen that kind of destruction needed just to fix some pipes. Nevertheless, life carried on around it.

We found ourselves drawn to the Jokhang immediately. Standing broad and low in the heart of old Lhasa, it is recipient of the prayers of daily worshippers and once-in-a-lifetime pilgrims. Its kora, the sacred path of worship that circles the Jokhang, is one of the most visited in all of Tibet, by tourists and worshippers alike.

From sunrise to sunset, Tibetans arrive to make the circumambulation of the Jokhang to pay their religious respects and live out their prayers. While we were casually walking this kora, we were lapped by elderly men and women swinging their prayer wheels; families from remote areas of Tibet on a pilgrimage; and extremely devout worshippers who pray by performing full-body prostrations. This entails taking three steps, clapping their hands and then, in prayer, stretching themselves out on the ground in front of them, touching their forehead to the ground then standing up and starting the process again.  A not so pleasant experience was being asked by a worshipper to pay him to do this full-bodied prayer so we could take his picture. Unbeknownst to us at the time, this was a harbinger of things to come.

Adjacent to the Jokhang’s pilgrim circuit is a residential area and a maze of markets in the alleys that stem off of the kora. This is the heart of Lhasa where Tibetans live, meet, socialize and shop. In these alleys, everything from yak meat to fake teeth can be bought. Houses and stores fill the spaces between the smaller temples, prayer poles and incense offerings. All day long there is constant movement: a clock-wise flowing stream of worshippers, shoppers, vendors, and inhabitants.

The area around the Jokhang, however, is changing rapidly. Traditional Tibetan homes and buildings, among the oldest in Lhasa, are being razed and families being relocated to make way for new, often characterless and cultureless stores and stalls not owned by Tibetans. With this, Tibetan heritage and a way of life are disappearing.

But for us, the spirit of the people in and around the Jokhang was contagious. As NikiAnne was shooting a photo of the temple, some local woman sitting nearby beckoned to her. In Tibetan they instructed her to sit down next to them on a stool and share a cup of tea. A woman tossed out the remains in her cup, refilled it from a jug and gave it to her. NikiAnne sipped her salty butter tea and nibbled at the candy that was kindly given to her from the sticky palm of the woman next to her. Rather than offend anyone, NikiAnne feasted graciously with periodic expressions of delight for their tastes. Tibetans traditionally drink yak butter tea, which is salty and oily, but since the price of yak butter is becoming increasingly more expensive for the average Tibetan, some have resorted to making tea out of salt and a small amount of cow butter.

Within seconds all the younger girls that were frolicking around the older woman swarmed in curiosity. This was NikiAnne’s chance to practice her Tibetan. She tried to ask them their names, and when they didn’t understand she proceeded by telling them her name, Nika, which is what she goes by in Asia since it’s a lot easier for most to pronounce. Once they got the picture they stated their names; we were consumed with joyous laughter and enjoying the cross-cultural bonding. The most touching moment of the tea party was when one of the older women pulled a dangling necklace charm out from underneath her jacket and revealed probably her most prized possession, a picture of the Dalai Lama himself. NikiAnne was so honored that she had trusted her enough to share, considering she lived in a country that prohibits any photos or drawings of the living Dalai Lama and is known for killing Tibetans who are found with such possessions.

Upon arrival, we were blinded to the actual realities of Tibet and Tibetans. To us, Tibet was magical and unique, especially coming from the industrial and over-populated areas of China proper. We had bought a one-way ticket into Lhasa so we had the option to stay as long as we liked. Although we had planned on staying 2 weeks, our immediate reaction to Tibet was a desire to stay for weeks, even months. We were in love with the place and the people.

Lhasa stuck us to be a collage of intriguing architecture, colorful people, and above all else a devotion to religion that was framed by dramatic towering peaks on all sides, giving the city a sense of God-given protection. Soon after arriving we were told the history of the Himalayas, which is the mountain range that makes up the Tibetan/Nepali border. Science tells us that when Pangaea broke apart, the Indian sub-continent was connected to Antarctica and floated south. Eventually the Indian sub-continent broke off and began moving north towards Asia. When it collided with Asia the impact of the two land masses forced the points of impact upward, creating what we know today as the Himalayas. Knowing the history helped explain why we felt as if we were so high on Earth that we were practically entering the heavens. The Tibetan Plateau looked as though the collision of continents was yesterday. The mountains are essentially piles of crumbled rocks; there is no soil or grass that holds the mountains intact, just the sheer weight of the rocks.

After spending a few days seeing the sights in Lhasa (making sure they weren’t too far from our hostel, since we were perpetually exhausted from the altitude), we decided it was time to go on a short excursion outside of the city to taste what rural Tibet was like. We posted notices on message boards and within two days we had four other travelers join us on a 3-day expedition to Lake Nam-tso and Reting Monastery. Song (Thai), Jun (Korean), Pam (Canadian), Mark (English), and us all hopped into our rented Land Cruiser and let our driver show us his homeland.

His land turned out to be extremely harsh with beautiful scenic landscapes (that you can see for a hefty price) and rapidly changing unpredictable weather. In one day, we experienced burning sunshine, bone-chilling winds, snow, rain, and rainbows. The roads along the 190-kilometer drive were filled with potholes and ditches, and many of them had been washed away by the long summer rains. After a full day’s nauseating journey being bounced around in the back of the Land Cruiser, we reached Nam-tso Lake (situated 4,712m [15,455ft] above sea level), which is the second largest saltwater lake in China and also happens to be a tidal lake of bone chilling temperatures.

 

Although the six-hour journey was a painful one, we were rewarded with a sweeping view of the sacred Lake Nam-tso’s turquoise waters and the snow-capped mountains of the Nyenchen Tanglha Range were the backdrop. NikiAnne was feeling a little light-headed and weak from the car-ride and altitude (1200m [3936ft] higher than Lhasa), but still chose to take a casual stroll along the lake’s coastline with Andy. We were greeted by numerous curious and friendly locals and pilgrims with the typical Tibetan greeting, “Tashi-dele” and giggles from the kids who probably thought we sounded funny and were funny looking when we replied with the same salutation. On the shore were women washing clothes in the lake’s clear waters. To Tibetans the lake is sacred and possesses many healing powers. Above us, up against the massive rock cliffs were thousands of prayer flags and pilgrims walking the kora. Just a reminder, a kora is a pilgrim route or circuit that usually surrounds a sacred site or temple. Prayer wheels are the most common indication of a kora. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to see the rituals close up; our bodies were exhausted from the bumpy roads and the increase in altitude, and in no shape to climb or exert more energy.

 

As tired as we were, there is something about techno music coming from a tent in the middle of rural Tibet that gives you enough energy to go exploring. What we found was ‘Dance Party Tibet 2003’ in full effect, with about 35 locals jammed into one small tent, with some speakers blasting out the worst music you have ever heard. To turn down an opportunity like this would be unforgivable, so we jammed through the door and joined the dancing masses on the dance floor. If only we had enough energy to go back for our cameras.

 

At 9 am the next morning, we set off for Reting Monastery (4100m), to which the Dalai Lama would supposedly return to if he were ever granted permission to come back into Tibet. His mentor was the Abbott at Reting many years ago, and the area around the Monastery is where an unusually large number of high monks come from. It was a rough, bumpy drive through breathtaking mountain gorges and the Rong-chu Valley. Lots of sheer, rocky cliffs that appeared to be unforgiving to anyone who thought they could maneuver through them. Much of the land was dotted with shrubs, but no trees. It wasn’t until we actually reached the Monastery that we saw trees; a beautiful forest of mystical junipers covered the hillside. Their scent and wise looking tangled trunks lured us to them for a quiet meditation and a “write in my journal” session. The horses and foal that grazed and galloped through the trees were an added bonus to an already fabulous set up. However, upon closer examination, this beautiful area was absolutely covered in trash. Everything from flip flops and old clothes, to potato chip bags to beer bottles were strewn about the surrounding area with seemingly little regard for their negative environmental (not to mention aesthetic) impact. It was pretty disheartening to see that the upkeep of this sacred and important monastery was being totally neglected.

 

As soon as we met the resident monks, who were also running the makeshift accommodations, we began to see why the area monastery was a mess. Quite surprisingly, they weren’t friendly at all and seemed to be a little bit money hungry. They really over-charged us on accommodation, which was in a 20-person tent that leaked, provided little insulation for the cold air outside, and allowed their dogs to come in whenever they’d like. Yet we had few other options considering the closest alternative was more than 100km away. Our spirits were lifted when we ran into some other monks at a nearby monastery who were much more friendly and genuine. These monks were of a different, smaller monastery up the hill. These three monks and a junior novice monk were gathered around a horse that was being loaded up for a journey that one of them was obviously about to embark on. They were just as interested in us as we were in them. They wanted NikiAnne to sit upon their horse. She was glad to, but the minute she was on they started laughing like they had never seen a foreign woman on a horse before. (If only they knew NikiAnne was a cowgirl in her youth and was basically born on a horse.) While Andy was taking pictures of NikiAnne and the monks, the young novice reappeared with his own camera and was snapping shots as well. It wasn’t until later that we discovered that he didn’t have any film in it. Nevertheless, the camera, which was most likely a gift from a former passer-by, was his pride and joy.

 

By the end of the three days we were all exhausted and needed the little comfort that Lhasa had to provide before we could set off for our next trip: Mount Everest. One of the most difficult things we realized on our trip to Nam-tso was that there was little option for food outside of Lhasa; typical options were pre-packaged “Ramen” soups or over-salted and MSG laden fried rice. Back in Lhasa we couldn’t eat enough, the food tasted so good. At our favorite restaurant Tashi I, Andy and I usually devoured at least one chicken bobi, much like a Mexican fajita, momos (dumplings), and either cheesecake or yogurt. Yep, we ate like kings in Lhasa. And if we weren’t at Tashi we could be found on the rooftop of the New Mandala with our recently befriended travel mates as well as Jeff (English) and Doogal (American). From the rooftop we took in magical sunsets setting over Jokhang Square and Temple as well as watched snowstorms paint the surrounding mountaintops white while we basked in the warming sun and sipped local beer.

 

After filling our aching stomachs with much needed nourishment and taking a HOT shower, we were back on the road, this time with 6 other people, 2 land cruisers, and the end goal of seeing the highest point in the world: Mount Everest. In addition to our original Lake Nam-tso companions Mark, Song, Jun, and Pam, we were joined by Jeff (England) and Kim (Canada) on the journey that would take us across Tibet to its border with Nepal along the Friendship Highway which links these two countries.

 

We devised a 7-day itinerary that would allow us to take in most of the important sites along the way, and also give us time to, again, adjust to the increases in altitude. We spent our first night on the road in the town of Shigatse (3900m [12,792 feet]), which is home to the majestic Tashihunpo Monastery. On our way there, we stopped at Yamdrok-tso Lake, a series of emerald green lakes, one of which had the ruins of a small monastery in its middle. We also passed through the town of Gyantse, home to another famously important monastery, perched upon a hill overlooking the surrounding valleys. Even though 7 days seemed like a lot of time to reach Mount Everest, only 780 km (488 miles) to the southwest of Lhasa, because of bad roads, weather considerations and having to cross many mountain passes, it turned out not to be enough time to see all the sites. So, unfortunately, we didn’t stop to see the Gyantse Monastery, but because of its perched position, we admired it as we drove past on our way to Shigatse. We spent the first night on our trip playing card games and drinking beer in the hostel’s restaurant, until one of the hostel’s staff invited us out to a Tibetan dance club. We readily agreed, and off we went. Dance club, however, is not what we would have called it. It was more like a talent show, with a stage where performers danced and sang, while everyone else sat and watched. We’re traveling for the experience though, right?

 

The following morning we explored the Tashilhunpo Monastery, which means ‘Heap of Glory’ in Tibetan. Within Tibetan Buddhism, there are at least 2 sects, one of which is the Gelug sect (also known as the Yellow-Hatted sect) of which Tashilhunpo Monastery and Shigatse were its power centers. It is one of the six main monasteries of the Gelug sect (along with Drepung, Sera and Ganden in Lhasa and Kumbum and Labrang in Amdo). Its rise to the center of a fierce battle within Tibetan Buddhism began when the Fifth Dalai Lama declared that his teacher- the Abbot of Tashilhunpo- was the manifestation of Amitabha (the Buddha of Western Paradise). This Abbot was named the Great Scholar Lama, or the Panchen Lama, a title that is still bestowed on people today, much like the Dalai Lama.

During the period between the Fourth and Sixth Panchen Lamas, Tashilhunpo graduated from Lhasa's political partner to its rival for power. Contemporaneously, it was developed and expanded to a level of architectural grandeur befitting its political, economic and spiritual significance.

The antagonism between Lhasa and Shigatse came to a head in a dispute in the 1920's between the Ninth Panchen Lama and the Thirteenth Dalai Lama. Tashilhunpo, during this period of political dissolution in China, felt sufficiently strong to refuse the Tibetan central government's demands for tax revenue. When the power play failed, and the Dalai Lama and his Tibetan central government asserted their authority, the Panchen Lama fled to China. Although the monastery was disbanded in 1960 by the Chinese authorities, it has now been revived with 800 monks studying for the traditional geshe exams.

At its height, the labyrinthine Tashilhunpo monastery had over 4000 monks resident in its four tantric colleges, each headed by its own abbot. It was these four abbots who, after the death of the Panchen Lama, were responsible for the search for his reincarnation.

The monastery is stunning, with its never-ending maze of passageways and hallways. Next to the monasteries of Lhasa, it was the most impressive one we saw in all of Tibet. Traveling in Tibet is essentially moving from one monastery to the next, and although each monastery has its own history and its own unique architecture, it was very easy to get ‘monasteried out.’ So, with that in mind, our selectivity took us further west to Sakya Monastery, which before the Cultural Revolution was one of the largest monasteries in Tibet. We checked into absolutely the worst hotel we had stayed in yet, and quickly left our unhygienic rooms to wander the town of Sakya. When that was done 2 minutes later, we started to look for a place to relax and spend the remaining hours of the night. Luckily, we found a small family owned restaurant that was overjoyed at the windfall of having 8 foreigners eating and drinking there all night.

After surviving the night and somehow not being devoured by fleas or roaches and not having the hotel collapse on us, we headed over to the monastery to see for ourselves the devastation that the Cultural Revolution had wrought upon Sakya. However, someone had the bright idea of charging $10 to enter these ruins, and already feeling a bit ‘monasteried out’ we decided to give it a miss and instead get an early start on our traveling to the outpost town of Shegar. We figured that since our rooftop toilet overlooked the ruins, we had probably already had the best view of it in town. It was disheartening to know that we braved the fleabag motel for little reward, but we figured it best to cut our losses and move on.

 

After driving all morning on dusty and bumpy roads, at noon we pulled into a town that literally was being built before our very eyes. We thought perhaps it was a bathroom stop, or the last place to buy some food before getting to Shegar. Surprisingly, the town being constructed was Shegar, and we had the whole day and night there. Having gone 3 days without a shower, we were all very excited to see a sign that said ‘hot showers,’ and extremely dismayed to learn that the hot shower contraption was solar powered, and since it was overcast, there were no hot showers to be had. Not to be denied, we all took turns using washing bins and boiled water in thermoses to do our scrubbing in our respective rooms. Once freshened up we gathered in the hotel’s main sitting room for a bite to eat, which turned out to be, essentially, yak burritos. Actually, they were pretty good- yak, when properly cooked, is quite tasty and we grew to like it, so much so, that when we returned to Lhasa from this trip, NikiAnne ordered Spaghetti Bolognese with yak in the meat sauce. Honest. That turned out to be one of her bigger mistakes on the trip.

 

With many hours to kill and only so many yak burritos that one can handle, we, the two of us, decided to walk around the outskirts of town for a while. We were soon joined by a couple of local Tibetan kids, who asked us for some money. We said no. They then asked us for pens. We didn’t have any. Then they wanted our watches, camera, or anything that we could give them. When we found a sticker or two in our pockets and gave it to them, two of them took off, without even a ‘Toe-jay-chay’ (thank you) while the third, and oldest one, asked for more stickers.

 

To say that this was an isolated instance in Tibet would be unfair to the realities of our time there. It was not uncommon for people to demand money from us if we took their picture. One time, a herder was moving his yaks across a field away from us, with Mount Everest as a backdrop. We snapped the picture, and he then turned around, and started coming back to us, a distance of at least 500 feet, to ask for money for the picture. Or, we would be taking a quick 5-minute leg stretching break on the side of the Friendship Highway, and people, adults and children alike, would coming running from their fields, right up to our car and ask to have anything they could see.

 

With each passing experience, it became harder to find or even picture the Tibet that we thought we saw initially or that we all fantasize about. That romanticized vision was incrementally wiped from our eyes as the days went by and we saw more and more of what the Tibet of today is like. The Tibetans are in competition just to maintain their economic livelihood with the best businessmen in the world, the Han Chinese. It’s no wonder we saw countless numbers of Tibetans (farmers, monks, nuns, and many others whose professions were not identifiable at first glance) begging on the streets. Daily we confronted numerous people who begged with theatrically sad faces for anything and everything that we had. If we gave, it was never enough. Not once did we hear a thank you or see a smile when they took what we gave. They seemed to want something that was beyond our capacity to give; with each new face we met the situation seemed graver and more hopeless.

 

However, alongside these discouraging chance encounters on the street we also met Tibetans who gave us more uplifting and positive impressions of Tibet. All in all, we had about a dozen encounters with people greeted us or helped us with dignity and sincerity. Lhobsang, a Tibetan friend of a friend, was an angel in this harsh world who showed us a beautiful and prosperous Tibet time and time again. The front desk help at the Pentoc Guesthouse helped us get transport to Nam-tso without getting ripped off. He also showed immense trust in us by letting us pay our hotel bill after our trip to Nam-Tso Lake. The Mo-Mo restaurant off the Jokhang kora was the place we dined for many consecutive nights and grew to love the staff. However, when we tipped them one night, which is not customary in Asia, they forcibly returned our tip to us the next night saying that it is not their custom to accept gratuitous money. These are just a few of the many people who showed us the heart of Tibet and the spirit for which it is renowned.

 

But something about that experience with the three boys in Shegar broke a dam inside of NikiAnne, releasing a torrent of emotions that had been building ever since we set foot in China one month prior. While much of this pent up frustration and unhappiness was focused on our time in China proper so far, some of pertained to Tibet too. The realities of the Tibetans’ situation was beginning to dawn on us, and it is never easy to realize that a people have had their souls taken. Also, we were always trying to meet locals and learn what their life was really like, but we were constantly being targeted for ‘our money.’ As NikiAnne wrote in her journal in late September:

 

I usually care about and focus on the people more than anything else, no matter where I am. I usually observe them from afar and close up, try to talk to them and let them know that I am a friend and sister that wants to learn so much from them. Here in China, Tibet included, there is a wall between us and I can’t figure out how to break it down. I get the feeling that it’s my money that they see rather than my face and smile. The more I was belittled to money signs in their eyes the more I make it my duty to not shell out money and to show that there is more to an American, or any foreigner for that matter, than their money.

 

While there was nothing doing in the town of Shegar, Tibet, we will both remember it as an important turning point in our trip, and maybe the first hurdle cleared. We aired our feelings to each other, many of them unpleasant, about the life we were seeing around us, and it made it much easier for us to return to China proper for the remaining one month on our visa.

 

But before doing that, we had to actually see the highest point in the world, Mount Everest. So, our group set out once again in our two Land Cruisers across the frozen plateaus with our sights set on reaching Rongphu Monastery, the highest monastery in the world and only 8 kilometers from Base Camp on Mount Everest’s north face. We reached the monastery in the afternoon, and were welcomed by a cloud-obstructed view of the valley leading up to Everest, or Qomolangma in Tibetan. So, while waiting for the clouds to clear, we went off to check out Rongphu Monastery, located 4,980 meters (16,334 feet) above sea level. It was a nice, simple monastery that was at the entrance to the Rongphu Valley, which was once a well-known meditation retreat where Buddhist hermits would have themselves sealed into a small, stone hut for a year, three years, or even a lifetime. Food and water were passed to them daily by an unseen servant through an opening in the wall.

 

That afternoon we sat upon the rocks overlooking the valley, and the clouded peaks of Everest and its other towering neighbors. Close to sunset, some of the neighboring peaks began to clear, but Everest’s peak, the one we had come all this way for, still remained obscured. We kept looking though, and finally someone said, ‘Look!’ Well, we all started looking and saw nothing. The problem was that we were all looking at around the same height as Everest’s neighboring peaks, and when we correctly craned our necks upwards, we saw the top of Mount Everest, poking out from the tops of the seemingly ever-present cloud cover. It was truly an awe-inspiring sight. To think that at 16,000 feet, we were already halfway up the mountain boggled our minds.

 

One very cold night later and some scary bouts with altitude sickness for Andy, we woke to a crystal clear sky, and there, before us, was the highest mountain in the world, perched 8,848 meters (29,021 feet) above sea level. It was, for lack of a better word, amazing to see the face of Mt. Everest as clear as day.

 

Despite the fact that NikiAnne had caught a cold sleeping near such thin and poorly insulated windows, we ate a quick breakfast and then set out on the 8 kilometer (4.8 mile) walk to Base Camp, a mere 220 meters above Rongphu Monastery. Well, the altitude made us work, and we mean work, for every step. Three hours later (!!!), we made it into the tent city that is Base Camp 1 on the Tibetan side. Once there, we learned that some people had been staying there for 28 straight days waiting for a clear day like this to see Everest. Call it beginners luck, I guess.

 

Unfortunately, being 5,200 meters (17,056 feet) above sea level was a bit too much for some of us; NikiAnne and Jeff both ended up spending their day at Everest Base Camp in bed, sick. The rest of us however wandered around a bit exploring the block-long set up of tents that served as restaurants in the daytime and accommodation at night. Although we have been told that the Nepali side is far worse, the Tibetan side was pretty littered with lots of trash strewn about and some of the worst bathrooms we’ve seen anywhere. For those of you who wants to know what that looks like, picture a hole in the ground 4-5 feet deep over which you squat, yet no one has cleaned it out in ages, so its contents have filled the hole and are now coming up and out of it. The mound was competing with Mt. Everest itself.

 

The next day we said goodbye to Jeff and Song, who headed for the Nepali border, while the rest of us, except NikiAnne who still wasn’t feeling well, went for a walk towards the glacier that’s situated between Base Camp 1 and 2. With another clear morning, it was very difficult to focus on the tricky footwork required to navigate streambeds and boulders, given that all of us only wanted to look at the blindingly white north face of Everest. Upon returning from our hike, we loaded up our things into the remaining Land Cruiser (the other one would meet up with us later that night, after dropping Jeff and Song off at the border) and started the 2-day journey back towards Lhasa.

 

As is usually the case, the return ride was a lot more quiet, with many of us reflecting back on the previous 5 days as the Tibetan countryside bumped along outside our windows. It was really a fantastic trip made all the better because of our great group of people, 3 of whom we would see later, both planned and unplanned. We had seen the top of the world, and braved the altitude, the weather, and, most forbidding, the food (oh, the food) and made it back to Lhasa to tell the tale.

 

Back in Lhasa, with only a few days to spare before heading back to China proper, we divided our time between shopping (Lhasa really is one of the best shopping cities we encountered) and teaching English to some classes run by a friend of one of NikiAnne’s former coworkers.

 

Overall, it is tough to give a straight answer about our experience in Tibet. At one end of the spectrum, it was full of spectacular sights, breathtaking scenery, and above all else, spirituality. At the other end, however, evidence of Chinese occupation and the cultural and religious suffocation that inevitably comes when one is governed by an outsider is growing increasingly visible on the streets. The realities of present-day Tibet and many of the ways in which the society and the people are changing are, in our viewpoint, disheartening. Fortunately, we know there is hope for Tibet because we met Tibetans who live by this hope and who are fighting to live in a freer Tibet.

 

May God be with all those who touched our lives eternally. Please know you are thought of often even though we weren’t able to mention your names in here.