Altitude Sickness symptoms persisted throughout the first night -- insomnia, shortness of breath, headache and a dry, relentless cough -- and I discovered upon awaking the next morning that my body had fully succumbed to the malady. In addition to the physical lethargy, my mental facilities seemed also to have fallen victim -- not exactly “brain freeze” but more like my mind was languishing in suspended animation. I noted that I didn’t have the power to explore Barkar Square, the renowned Tibetan market, which for this admitted shopaholic was NOT a good sign. Heeding the advice of the locals, I took it easy for a few days, allowing my body to adjust to the change in altitude and giving me time to prepare for the extraordinary impending road journey between Lhasa and Kathmandu.
Often I am asked to designate my favorite of all the many remarkable places I’ve visited… This is an impossible task as each destination possesses its own magic and holds indelible and distinct memories. But I must acknowledge that Tibet occupies a most cherished niche. I fell in love with TAR (Tibet Autonomous Region) from the gate – actually from within the cabin of an arriving plane. The stark dramatic terrain – all virginal white Himalayan peaks or undulating chocolate hills, the only hints of color provided by the azure sky or sapphire lakes dotting the countryside and the vibrant regional costumes donned by the warm, gregarious people; the poignant history and resonant culture, and the spiritual fervor embraced by the Tibetans despite their most celebrated maltreatment... I was consistently surprised and inspired, the faith and courage exhibited by these stalwart people a testament to the resolve of the human spirit. A world away from the chaos, confusion and claustrophobia which defined my overall experiences in and impressions of mainland China, Tibet exuded serenity and piety. Even the hawkers in Lhasa were placid and good-natured, smiling as they demonstrably tugged at my arm or playfully poked at my tattoos. An innate gentleness seemed to infuse the Tibetan nationals and, as I said, I fell in love….
Although still sluggish, on my second day I was ready to begin surveying Lhasa, the traditional capital of Tibet from where the Dali Lama was exiled, and the current capital of the Tibet Autonomous Region of the People’s Republic of China. Lhasa literally means "place of the gods" although ancient Tibetan documents and inscriptions demonstrate that the place was first called Rasa, which means "courtyard place" or "goat place.” Home to approximately 200,000 people, including a great number of relocated Chinese, Lhasa feels more like a large town than a small city, easy to navigate and pleasant to stroll. There is a sense of segregation, however, between the Tibetan and Chinese nationals. Barkar Square, the hub of Tibetan commercial activity and location of Jokhang Temple, the significance of which is punctuated by the presence of hordes of prostrating pilgrims -- exists ironically as a Tibetan ghetto within Tibet while the once grand Potala Palace, the former residence of the Dalai Lama, serves as a cavernous reminder of a fractured past.
For tourists, Lhasa is a launching pad for all other points throughout the region. Although certainly not reputed as a party town, where there are travelers there is bound to be some revelry. As such, one evening found a group of us crashing a local club where a Michael Jackson impersonator rendered a raucous version of “Thriller” and locals unabashedly danced to decades old Western music. A karaoke bar was on the itinerary for the following evening, providing equal opportunity embarrassment as Tibetans, Chinese and foreigners alike similarly bastardized renditions of “Yesterday” and “Hotel California.” It was also my first indication of the burgeoning prostitution scene in Lhasa, a sad and inevitable result of Chinese infiltration, industrialization and pervasive poverty in rural Tibet.
Once I was feeling stronger, I joined several other travelers for the 233 km jaunt to the eminent pilgrimage site of Lake Namsto, inside which sit five holy islets said to be the incarnation of the Five Buddhas. Spectacularly beautiful, where snow-kissed mountains hug an impossibly crystalline blue lake, throngs of devotees who had caravanned from every corner of Tibet set up make-shift camps and spent their days orbiting the sacred lake. The absurdly frigid climate hindered neither their mission nor their elation.
I returned after a brisk walk one day to find a woman and her infant child in our tent. The woman was crying, but as I learned, she was shedding tears of joy after one of our crew presented her with a simple sketch of the Dalai Lama torn from a guidebook. It is illegal for locals to possess a picture of the Buddhist leader and equally illegal for tourists to bring one into the region. This was not a photo, simply a line drawing ripped from a dog-eared book, but a gift of abundance for this woman nonetheless. Another memorable moment amongst the many I experienced here.
Next: Traveling the Friendship Highway of Tibet
By Suzan Crane -- the Global Gypsy Girl
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