We both had misgivings about visiting Tibet because we would be supporting China's presence there. And there is no doubt about the fact that our stay is finances the government with every monastery and even our tour permits (and there are a lot). There is some solace in your Lonely Planet guide (be sure not to have it confiscated) when you read the quote from the Dalai Lama : "Go to Tibet and see many places, as much as you can; then tell the world".
So if you strip back the politics, what do you find in Tibet? Underneath, at the first layer, you will find a proud and ancient culture, steeped in centuries of history. Underneath that is a rich religion, colourful, vibrant and alive. Below that is a peoples that, against all odds, are friendly, curious, happy and industrious. And at the core there is the land of Tibet! A land hidden in the Himalaya. It is a harsh land; arid, bitterly cold with a biting wind. However, there is something about these landscapes that attracts the heart. It is a land of raw beauty. You have the ability to see the far horizon, small gods of all we survey, our prehistoric brains at ease. The villages and herds of grazing animals are so far away and so small, our worries too, become insignificant.
But politics here always bubbles to the surface. There is not much you can do to avoid it. Trying to separate the two would be like trying to separate from Buddhism. We were warned not to bring anything 'political' into Tibet, such as 'Free Tibet T-Shirts', flags or even a Lonely Planet. But immigration asked a couple of cursory questions about CDs and magazines and without checking we were free to enter with a smile and a wave. Tibet is a land of monasteries and a history of accepting the teachings of the Buddha (the historical Buddha, not to be confused with the future, past, medicine, or horse Buddhas. When you get into it, there is a whole panthenon that would put the Catholics to shame). Twice Buddhism was established from outside. One of the kings married 3 times to wives from 3 different nations just to have Buddhist treasures housed in Tibet. An empire that poached talent from Kashmir to Nepal to Mongolia.
Lhasa
The first thing you notice about Lhasa is that everything is shiny and new and clean; roads are broad and sealed, there is neon and giant television billboards. There are signs in Mandarin everywhere, but all have Tibetan subtitles, and the construction (as, I assume is, everywhere in China) is rampant. There are parking lots of shiny new mobile cranes and tractors. On the road to Gyantse we passed four trucks loaded with tiny tractors all heading west to fuel the modernisation juggernaut. There are hydro-electric dams, road construction everywhere, and trains that ferry 500 people a day onto the Tibetan plateau. The continuation of the train to Shigatse (Tibet's second largest city) is under construction. All this investment is a sure sign that China is digging in.
We woke early on our first day to catch a quick kora around Tibet's holiest of temples, the Jokhang and a look around Barkhor square. Allegory has it that the Jokhang was built on the heart of a demoness, pinning her down and thus symbolising the triumph of Buddhism over Bon. We were fortunate that is was a Wednesday, being the day that the Dalai Lama was born, it was a popular day at the Jokhang. It was the Tibet we had hoped for. There were maroon robes, prayer wheels, lots of juniper smoke from giant incense burners, and prostrations. The Jokhang houses a statue of the Buddha brought to Tibet from China, one of only three created in the Buddha's lifetime, it shows him as a 13yo and is one of those treasures. The queues of pilgrims, each one pressed against the one in front, became a single entity started from outside the temple and snaking in and out of all of the little chapels on the inside. It moved so slowly that only the devout could have the patience to persist. The smell of butter lamps was all pervasive, with the locals dispensing more butter from thermoses as they pass. When our guide gave his introduction to the Jokhang in Barkhor square, we were first 'moved on' by a police officer in a menacing black uniform and then, after we complied, another black uniformed man along with a man in civilian clothes both loitered with in earshot. This and the conspicuous police and military presence and the unsleeping eyes of cameras high on roof tops gave the Barkhor a decidedly other world feeling - we weren't in Kansas anymore Toto.
We visited Drepung and Sera monasteries and watched the monks show off their full contact debating. What surprised me was that the monasteries are being rebuilt; work dancers sing love songs as that stamp the agar of the walls and floor till it is as hard as concrete. We visited the museum that was once the Potala and followed the stream of Chinese tourists with their own guides and their own version of history. Across the road you could see the memorial to the 'Peaceful Liberation of Tibet' but no mention of the 1.3 million who died in its aftermath. A quick visit to the nearby Nachung monastery with its murals of flayed bodies, creepy one eyed guys and wild burials indicate that the visions of a state oracle must be quite disturbing.
If you get out of the tourist areas and scratch the surface a little you will notice that there is a facade, a wall constructed in front of anything unsightly. You will notice that most of the shops are run by Han Chinese, it as if the Tibetans are foreigners in their own land. While strolling the Barkhor looking for souvenirs we where approached by a traditionally dressed Tibetan woman selling jewellery. We were interested, but the whole exchange seemed more like a drug deal when a police officer appeared at the end of the street. We felt a little nervous but exhilarated about bending the rules.
Friendship Highway
Our tour is in a land cruiser following the Friendship highway west. We follow flat glacial valleys, devoid of trees and most vegetation, until the hills close in on us and we climb over another pass. Villages dot the road, clusters of white washed mud brick buildings and all about the villagers plough and sow fields of barley creating oases of green. The hills are copper, gold, coffee and purple. Some are dotted with juniper others show the rocky strata contorted into knots revealing the forces at work. Tents line the road; black squat pyramids for nomads and khaki or camo for road gangs.
Away from Lhasa, the next thing you notice are the toilets. They must rank as the worst in the world. You have realise that Tibetans have been using human poo to compliment crop fertiliser for centuries. Then you will understand, but still not appreciate them. They are mostly what we would call in Australia 'thunder boxes'. The better ones have a 'long drop' and are slots in the floor. Others have shoots. None of them have water. The public ones give public a new meaning. When there is stalls, they have no doors and are only a metre high. In Nepal men go to the bathroom on the side of every highway. In Tibet the women avoid the toilets in preference of the open air, aided by their long skirts. Still, curiously, they follow that universal female habit of going in groups.
At Gyantse we were overwhelmed by chapels of Buddhas of all descriptions, protector kings, bodhisatvas, and various other luminaries that even our guide could not name. We stopped into Shalu on the way and saw some murals painted way before the white guy cam to Oz. In Shigatse we got a look at the Panchen Lama's residence. But as there are 2 Panchen Lamas, one in China, and the Chinese instated one, this is a monastery with a twist and its best not to talk to anyone here.
Our first night of camping was 20km before Saga. We had visited yet another monastery, the Sakya monastery, a slightly different sect but important because this was the ONLY monastery not destroyed by the Cultural Revolution. The general with the key was called back to Beijing and no one else dared to go in. In a curious twist of fate it has since been sacked of all artifacts to start a museum in Beijing. We pitched tents on the flat grass valley amongst a loose collection of houses and tents, sheep, goats and yaks. This is nomad country, cultivation has ceded to a transient life where we are the entertainment. Nomads have traded their horses for motorcycles festooned with carpets, tassels, ribbons, sheepskin mittens on the handlebars, plastic flowers, mudflaps from trucks, and blaring stereo systems.
Beyond Saga the steppe is golden backed by snowcaps and has sand dunes marching in wind swept journeys trying to consume everything in their path including the dusty town of Paryang. We crossed the Mayun La (5216m) and at last saw the turquoise ribbon that is the waters of Manasarova. There the valley opens out to a wide plain that rolls to the horizon, halted only by the himalayas themselves. The land has a tinge of green, a hue that hints of the rains from the approaching monsoon. We dipped our feet and watched the blackness of storms over where Kailash should have been.
The furtherest west was to the historical Guge. The Guge kingdom existed in the valleys and hills of an ancient sea. The clay hills are lined with the wrinkles of erosion and the pink and coffee strata that both give away the age of the area. The dzong of Tsaparang lies in ruins, first by the kings kinsmen from Laddakh, in which 90 thousand perished, and then by the Cultural Revolution. Tsaparang, like Potala, is now run as a museum. It may not hold much significance to some Tibetans but it marks then end of the rein of kings, a lost enclave of Jesuits, and a link to Laddakh in India. Tholing monastery is significant in that it was the Sri Lankan Atisha's first steps into Tibet and the reintroduction of buddhism. Although it has been basically gutted, the murals that remain, like Tsaparang, are quite interesting in their style and depiction (No Photos please).
Kailash
But we returned to the sacred mountain of Kailash, a mountain like no other I have seen. Four granite sides face each of the four compass points. It is over 6000m yet you can walk around it in a 2-3 days or one very long day if you are a local. We could not have had better weather for our 3 day circumambulation of mountain. We woke in Darchen to see the characteristic south face against a cloudless blue sky. The first day was the most picturesque, with views of south, west and north faces.The next day we crossed Drolma La (5630m), which was our highest climb yet but gradual and dare I say pleasant. The final day is an easy 2 hour walk to the car park. There is a road being pushed around Kailash so soon you will be able to complete a kora in a land cruiser. While this may prevent the deaths of many pilgrims and certainly end the racketeering of the local nomads and guides, it will certainly detract from the significance of this walk,
Indian Pilgrims
Is a mantra meaningless if the words are mumbled without thinking? What becomes of symbolism when it becomes fashion? If a kora of Kailash washes away the sins of one lifetime, what is achieved by prostrating around it in 18 days? Saga, with its shops postered with Bollywood stars, is one staging post for the hindu pilgrims and the streets were clogged with fleets of land cruisers to ferry 150 to Kailash. These Indians are bused here, gaining 4000m in 5 days. They are pretty easy to spot - all of them wear identical down jackets, 3 sizes too big, and balaclavas. They then perform a 'horse kora' if they are able to circumambulate the mountain, and a 'car kora' of lake Manasarova; it's quicker that way. One Indian woman died from AMS the day before we completed our kora. If they were trekkers and not pilgrims we would think them far more than foolish. Thing is though, they don't have the choice that we have. They must go through the government agency, no option, no competition, no service! This is one of the biggest injustices to be seen in action in Tibet. Piligrims pay to visit Kailash and they are rushed through with such callousness that they die at a rate of 20-30 each year. If there were some mass protest, and they didn't come, the loss of revenue would surely shock the authorities into some action. But this is a holy mountain, a pilgrimage, and what happens is god's will.
From Kailash we returned to Manasarova lake and Chui monastry. It is perched above the plain on a red rocky crag. With the lake and views of Kailash, it is no wonder that Guru Rinpoche, the first to bring buddhism from India, spent so much time here. We camped by the lake again, the head of the lake, but the other side at the foot was more sandy and a better campsite if it.
Everest
Finally to Everest (a few days back tracking) and a bit of a thrill to be on the other side of the peaks we had walked to see just over a month ago. We walked from the tent city to the base camp, it should have been simple enough - follow the road. But along the way we saw some cairns marking out short cuts that took out the loops in the road. We followed these and were soon on top of the moraine. We had made it to the forbidden zone without even trying (oops). A month ago some American tourists had climbed here and taken some 'political' photos and now all but a small area around the military checkpost at the base camp was out of bounds. You can not go to see the memorial to Mallory, and even photos with stuffed toy mascots get more attention that is warranted.
When I was 21 a friend of my fathers asked if I was socialist. I vaguely remember answering in the affirmative, but it was his canned response that I could not forget: "If you are not a socialist before you are 21, you have no heart. If you are a socialist after 21, you have no brain." Socialism, while a grand idea, fails trying to combat human nature. We crave the maximum reward for the least effort. If we all get the same reward reguardless of effort then we become lazy and corrupt. All that remains is a single fallible entity dictating all.
Economic improvement is certainly evident. Would it have occurred without the Cultural Revolution, who could tell? But at what price? The deprivation of liberties, the lack of freedom to practice as a buddhist are heavy tolls. The buddhist treasures carted away, smashed or defaced can not be replaced. Festivals can not be celebrated. Citizens can not get a passport until they are over the age of 55. Checkpoints a permits also restrict tourists to certain areas, especially since the troubles of 2008. Signs disallowing photography generally indicate some legacy of the Cultural Revolution that casts a bad light. It is the victors that write history, certainly not tourists (if it can be stopped).
