72 HOURS IN TIBET  by amber isak

We were warned before we arrived - ”Everything is going to smell like yak...The city is dirty,” and “The people are unfriendly.” However, these warnings came from a Chinese tour guide who was overwhelmingly offended that the Tibetens failed to refer to themselves as Chinese. “But we use the same currency!” he exclaimed in an exasperated manner while dropping us off at the airport for our flight to Lhasa, Tibet. “You should have gone on the tour of the Silk Road,” he said to us as we departed, shaking his head.
 

With this kind of warning, I was even more anxious to get to Lhasa. I had little knowledge of what to expect other than the fact that in response to the news of my trip to China and Tibet, many people instinctively said “Free Tibet!” in a flippant fashion. Tibet, or Tibet Autonomous Region, borders India, Burma, Bhutan, Sikkim and Nepal and until the last few decades, was closed to visitors. And it was the reason my sister Misty and I had chosen to come on this particular trip with two other people.
 

I was fortunate enough to have a window seat on the flight in, and the enormity of the towering mountains that loomed beneath us was certainly reason enough to believe why people called the area Shangri-La, a mythical country allegedly located in the mountains of Tibet. The sky was a bright shade of blue and the clouds billowed from the mountain tops. And at 14,000 feet, the sun seemed much closer.
 

The drive from the airport to the actual town of Lhasa took nearly an hour, and almost no one spoke as we took everything in - the mountains, the cows crossing the street in front of us, and the colored Buddhist flags which represent the elements: earth, water, fire, cloud, and sky. Our tour guide for our time in Tibet, Ling, was part of a “Chinese-exchange” program instituted by the government that brought in guides from China and paid them higher stipends to work in Tibet.
 

Our first meal in Tibet was at a local restaurant and despite not having seen one yet, we got our introduction to the infamous yak meat when we were served yak stew. They gave us far more food than we could eat, and we hoped someone would use it. Poverty in Lhasa was evident - women, faces creased with dirt, bounced babies on their hips as they sat on the sidewalk selling jewelry. If you stopped to look, you had to be prepared to have one of these deceivingly strong women tug at your arm, begging you to buy something so they could feed their child that night.
 

In the morning, we went to the Drepung Monastery; the largest monastery in Tibet was founded in 1416 and at its peak, had a registration of over 10,000 monks. Prayer wheels, large golden embossed wheels that are considered to spread spiritual blessings, lined the pathway to the monastery, and those walking past spun them as they entered the sacred site. Women and children sat on the ground begging for money. Religious beggars are an accepted part of society in Tibet and giving money or food to a pilgrim is considered an act of merit.
 

However, one particularly persistent child kept following me around. She knew enough English to say the same phrase over and over: “Hello, you give me money?” We entered one of the main halls, only to find the same girl waiting for us 30 minutes later when we exited. I gave her several small bills and then asked her to stand with me as Misty took a picture with my digital camera. As I showed the picture to other local Tibetans standing nearby who seemed intrigued by my technology, I saw the little girl realize the chance to capitalize on what I had just asked of her, and soon she was off to tug on the pants of another tourist with a camera who turned to me and called me a troublemaker in annoyance.
 

Inside the Drepung Monastery, pilgrims kindled butter lamps by spooning in yak butter while murmuring sacred mantras to show their pieties to the Buddha. Many rooms seemed saturated with the smell of incense and often, small candles were the only flickers of light in the dimly-lit rooms. We entered one of the oldest sections of the monastery, a small stand-alone concrete building where monks spent time in isolation, often for months at a time in order to get closer to enlightenment. We were greeted by a monk who seemed folded into one of the small corners of his enclave. After Ling gave us the history of the building, we all turned to walk out; being the last one out, I was surprised to hear the monk turn to me and ask in English where I was from. I replied “America” and he smiled and thanked me for coming and for all the good that came from our country. It was humbling.
 

Next we went to the spiritual center of Tibet, the Jokhang Temple. As its oldest temple, it was one of Tibet’s holiest destinations and the site for many Buddhist pilgrims who come from all over the world. Some of them progress by prostrating themselves throughout their journey until they reach the temple. From the roof we could see the Potala Palace, the residence of the Dalai Lama before he fled over 40 years ago due to political unrest.
 

The evening’s activities were a tourist-planned event: dinner at the Mad Yak Café and traditional Tibetan singing and dancing. Some of the selections from the buffet line included female yak curd and yak heart. My sister and I opted for some more traditional fare, including what appeared to be french fries….french fried in yak oil.
 

After dinner we wandered around the streets surrounding our hotel. Many people sat outside small shops that also served as their homes. Streets were dirty and the buildings run-down. On our way to an internet café, we climbed two flights of grimy stairs only to be welcomed by a gleaming new room with dozens of computers with flat-screen monitors. We paid a mere 50 cents an hour to get online, and most of the computers surrounding us were occupied by young Tibetans apparently playing the same video game. The internet café was in start contrast to the poverty on the street beneath it.
 

While waiting for my sister, two children walked shyly past us, giggling. A few minutes later, they brought their grandmother back with them to see us. She stood in front of us laughing and pointing - not maliciously, but almost in awe. When she was done gawking, she bowed and said thank you in English before heading back down the street.
 

The next day involved a trip to the Potala Palace, a 13-story palace with 1,000 chambers. Most of them were closed to visitors, so the tour was short. Afterwards we went to a lake where you could see impressive reflections of the Palace. As we wandered around the park, we saw three children playing, likely a brother and his two sisters. Their faces were covered in dirt and their clothes were ragged. Like other children, they laughed innocuously upon seeing us, but seemed to follow us. We gave them each a granola bar which they quickly ate, and we went to sit down at a small table and take in the view of the lake dotted with leaves yellowed by the coming of fall. As we sat, the children started up a leaf fight, often with the two older girls ganging up on their younger brother to stuff handfuls of leaves down his pants and vest. As they ran around, their happiness was evident, and it was representative of many Tibetans who seemed happy just to be alive, despite their current situations.
 

After dinner, we were able to convince our server to box up the ample leftovers and we walked them across the street to the women waiting on the sidewalk. As we brought the food to them, their looks of gratitude was evident. Unlike anywhere else we had been in China, the Tibetans were never without a smile on their face, and they wore their strength in the lines on their faces.
 

The next morning, we were up early for our flight and in the van, I thought about our last 72 hours in Tibet. It was interesting to think of what we were first told when we came…yes, the city was somewhat dirty, but there was also new construction going on as Lhasa worked to catch up to the technological age. And yes, we found out that everything did smell like yak and the clothes we had worn had to be quarantined in our suitcase, despite having never actually seen a yak during our stay. But the people were far from unfriendly - in fact, they were some of the most generous, peaceful people I have ever met. And as we left the city limits, we finally did see that yak, and I swear he was smiling too.
 

amber isak is an avid traveler whose favorite quote is the following from Mark Twain:

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.”

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