The China Journals, What Makes a Trip Successful? Part Four

Successful Trip Event Number Three

Jokhang Temple, Lhasa, Tibet

We are nearing the end of our visit in Tibet.  I think about this with a mixture of sadness and relief. 

The four- day high altitude migraine continues.

After initial hesitation and after much encouragement from our Chinese and Tibetan guides, I have been drinking a juice with rhodiola, which is the local herbal treatment for high altitude problems. 

Rhodiola, which grows in cold climates, is also known as Arctic root, Golden root, and Roseroot.

Despite being counseled to not drink the juice in the evening, one of our group who had not heard the warning took a can from the beverage cart during dinner and drank it.  She was awake all night, she said, and on the verge of becoming manic.  At breakfast I tell her rhodiola also reduces fatigue, just like caffeine.  That’s why she was awake all night.

Roof over the interior Jokhang Temple.

Today we board the bus to visit a large bazaar and the Jokhang Temple in Lhasa.  For most Tibetans, this sixth century temple is the most sacred one in Tibet and is the destination of many pilgrims.   It is the first Tibetan Buddhist temple built in this remote country and is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Tibetan Buddhist monk collecting monies for his monastery.

This is still holiday week, the eight days when the Chinese return to their hometowns for visits and, in the case of Tibetans, pilgrimages to sacred sites.  When we arrive at Barkhor Square, hundreds of people are there already.   Double rows of merchant booths line each side of the square and the pleasant but overwhelming scent of burning juniper fills the air.   Chinese soldiers armed with AK47s are posted nearby.

Barkhor Square in Lhasa.  Pungent juniper smoke from the incense burner in foreground spreads over a large area.  That is the Potola Palace in the right rear.

Pilgrims circumambulate the temple, performing a sacred ritual in the hope of accruing blessings in their next life.  According to Tibetan Buddhist beliefs, this life is already written.

In front of the entrance, dozens of Tibetan Buddhists prostrate themselves on thin mats or on bare paving stones, rise to a kneeling position, then slide their hands forward to lie prone again.  Some have their legs bound together to avoid insulting Buddha should their legs spread after a few hundred protestations.  They will prostrate themselves as many as five thousand repetitions at each ritual.

Many worshipers have various form of protection for their hands, enabling them to slide forward without damage to their palms.

A crush of pilgrims flows towards the entrance and our guide warns us to try to stay together.  She also recommends donning our face masks as the scent of burning yak butter and incense will be very strong inside.  Many in our group have dull headaches from the altitude and find the smoke and scents compound the problem.

Inner courtyard of Jokhang Temple and Larry with his face mask. 

The portal into the temple is approximately six feet wide and perhaps that deep.  There is a threshold to step over that can be anywhere from six to twelve inches high.  It is there, like almost all the old buildings in China and Tibet, to keep out evil spirits.  Because of the crush of humanity seeking entrance, we cannot see it so we shuffle along until out feet bump into it.

Those of us going into the temple are going into near darkness.  Those exiting are going from near darkness into the blinding sunlight of high altitude Lhasa.  We are two and three across, leaving little room for those exiting.

The entrance to the temple, dark and several feet deep.

I see a Tibetan monk in a saffron robe stumble over the threshold as he tries to find his way out.  He reaches out to stop his fall and his hand lands on my right boob where it remains for three or four long seconds.  I am taken by surprise but have time to consider two options:  I could remove his hand, thereby embarrassing the monk (or perhaps disappointing him), or, I could act as if nothing is out of the ordinary , as much as having a Tibetan monk's hand on my right breast could be considered ordinary.

I do the latter, biting my lip to keep from exploding in laughter.  I am, after all, in a holy place.  I cannot wait to tell my friends.

This becomes my third moment of adventure.  A chicken foot in my soup, a length of yak wool braided into a rope and given to me by a Tibetan nomad, and a grope from a Tibetan monk, even if he didn’t know what he had hold of, is more than anyone can ask.  And none of those things are on the official itinerary.

This trip, three weeks in China and Tibet with great guides and wonderful traveling companions, is a roaring success.

***

More photos from the Jokhang Temple.

Like in the USA, black cats are considered bad luck in Tibet.  Perhaps it has found sanctuary in the temple.  Maybe it earns a ilving as a mouser, protecting the valuable relics inside.

This young lad is fascinated with Robbin.

The China Journals, What Makes a Trip Successful, Part Three

Successful Trip Event Number Two

Countryside in Tibet

We are traveling north out of Lhasa, Tibet, into the almost treeless countryside.  This is farming country and the crop is most likely the all-important barley.   Everywhere I look there are Tibetan nomads and farmers harvesting barley at the 13,000 foot altitude.

The highway winds along the right side of this narrow plain with the Himalayans demarking each side.  On the far side is an elevated berm running the length of the valley.   The sides of the berm are landscaped into diamond shapes, mile after mile of diamonds.  Eventually the mountains constrict the valley and we are close enough to see railroad tracks atop the berm.

This is the famous rail line from Beijing to Lhasa, completed in 2006 and is the first railroad in or into Tibet.  At one point, the train climbs Tanggula Pass, 16,640 feet above sea level.  The passenger cars have oxygen supplies for each passenger and a doctor is on each train.

  

I gaze at this railway as we bounce over the narrow two-lane asphalt highway and not for the first time wonder how China can build such an engineering marvel yet not be able to construct a smooth road.  I live in a land of permafrost and know about the difficulties inherent in building roads over such conditions, so I give China a pass on this one.  However, add the frequent horn-honking to the jarring mix, and the four-day migraine brought on by high altitude has bludgeoned my brain into gray pulp that clamors for dark, cool, and quiet.

Trying to get a good shot from a bouncing bus of a train traveling 100 to 120 mph in the same direction.

I have been looking forward to this expedition into the countryside and I’m not about to let a headache stop me.  I notice that there is a man about every thousand feet of railway and I wonder if they are there to keep the cattle and yaks off the line.  Eventually I discover they are armed soldiers stationed there to protect the rails from sabotage.  This is Tibet and the reality of modern Tibet is a huge Chinese presence.  

I think about deleting the photos I have taken of the track-minders, remembering our guide’s admonishment against taking photos of soldiers.  “They are not there,” she said, quoting the official line.  And yet, “they” are everywhere—they even play basketball and do calisthenics outside my hotel room window in Lhasa.  Even along this highway, I have to be careful when I point my camera out the bus window as we meet a few military convoy.s

Though the railroad is changing the Tibetan economy, it is also making it easier for the ethnic Han Chinese, encouraged by their government, to migrate to Tibet, further enlarging the Chinese population in these occupied lands and further diluting the indigenous Tibetan culture.

I had asked our guide previously why China wanted this barren country with almost no industry and a fledgling tourism.  “China has always felt that Tibet is an historical part of China.”

Now I suspect another reason.  The mountains we pass are of varying colors, perhaps indicating massive mineral deposits.  But I’m no geologist, so I continue to wonder.

We pass ruins of monasteries, many of which were destroyed by the invading Chinese.  We drive through small villages that border the road, see men plowing the fields with teams of colorfully-adorned yaks.

In the valleys and alluvial fans of the mountains, we see more villages, but the distances between the settlements are so great that each one remains remote.

The bus pulls off the road onto a gravel wide spot next to a smal,l clear river.  Our guide says this is a typical Tibetan nomad camp and we are welcome to cross the suspension bridge to see it up close.  I leap at the opportunity, to the laughter of my travel mates.  The bridge itself is an adventure.

The deck of the suspension bridge.

Across the bridge, I wander through yak wool tents and the ubiquitous blue plastic tarps.  I notice two men and a woman harvesting barley straw nearby.  The woman is working; the men are watching.  One man waves to me in greeting and I motion to him to come nearer.

Yak wool tent.  Warm in winter, cool in summer.

Yak wool braided into rope to support the tent.

When he is across the fence from me, smiling as all Tibetans do, I hold up what is in my hand and –using hand signs—ask if I may have it.  He smiles and nods “yes.”  I say the Tibetan word for “thank you,” (I hope) and return to the bus with a huge smile on my face.

Everyone is already on the bus when I board.  I stand at the front and remind them about the chicken foot in my soup in Xi’an.  “This is the second one,” I say and hold up my prize, tell them what it is, and pass it to the nearest person who examines it carefully and passes it on.

The bus from my seat in back.  Another place, another time.

In that way, a small length of yak wool braided into a rope makes it way around the bus.

I have now had my second special experience.

My treasure:  a short length of yak wool braided into rope.

(Note:  We have many adventures this day, and despite my life-long yearning to visit the Potola Palace, this visit to the countryside becomes my favorite, enduring memory of six days in Tibet.)

Yak track.

Those Things that Go Bump in the Night

 We interrupt our regularly scheduled programing to bring you news from the Moose Pass neighborhood....

I stole this right off my neighbor Shawn's Facebook post.  I figured I had a right to it because it wound up on my Facebook wall.  Also because it really liked it.

To set the scene:  it snowed in Moose Pass this week, just enough to reveal what passes in the night, especially those things with really, really, really large feet  paws.



Shawn: 

So, after the snow yesterday there were tracks in the yard this morning. Somebody with very big feet. Then on the walk down to get the paper I saw a peacock. Think after I finish this bowl of whiskey and cornflakes I'll load up and go out looking for heffalumps and woozles.

These are the tracks of a large brown bear.  Not a wee black bear, nor a midling grizzly.  A big brown bear.

The China Journals, What Constitutes a Successful Trip? Part Two

Successful Trip Event Number One

Xi’an, China

We returned in late afternoon to the ancient capital city of Xi’an, China, after spending most of the day viewing the most remarkable archeological find of the 20^th century.  Discovered by a peasant farmer in 1974 as he was digging a well, the terra cotta warriors are a continuing “dig” as more sites are found.

The shear enormity of the sites is mind-boggling.  These warriors and archers were fashioned after real soldiers and each one is different. They are formed in phalanxes, interspersed with horsemen and chariots, all to guard the burial site of a Chinese warrior who feared his tomb would be raided. 

          

 In an adjoining gift shop, we meet the elderly man who found the site, shake his hand and have photos taken with him—all for a price, of course.  This is how he makes his living.  He is in his eighties and not always able to be in the shop.

He will even autograph a large and exquisite picture book, if you purchase it and tip him.  The finest calligrapher in China was sent to teach this farmer how to write his name, specifically for this purpose.

Once back at our hotel, our guide reminds us that we will leave very early in the morning for our flight to Lhasa, Tibet.   We are also on our own for dinner this night, free to explore local cuisine.  Unlike the looks of near-panic that suffused our faces when first presented with a “free night” in Beijing, we are fine.  We can do this.

The previous evening we had been treated to a dumpling dinner, which is the culinary specialty of Xi’an.  We emerged from the dumpling restaurant after nightfall to the beautiful illumination of both the drum and bell towers.

Bell tower

Drum tower

This evening, some go out.  Others, including me, opt to eat in a casual café in the hotel, rather than in the dining room where meals are buffet style.

The"handles" of the fork and spoon are modeled after the terra cotta warriors.

The menu in the café includes variations on western food, and a few Asian choices.  I opt for a sweet and sour dish and it is soon delivered.  After I finish, the server brings a cup of chicken soup.  I didn't expect it and I don’t want it, but feel I should make it look like I ate part of it.

Tom and Robbin.

My chicken soup

I’m about to dip my spoon in the cup when I see something that looks like a chicken bone.  This doesn’t faze me because I am already used to chicken being cut up into bite-sized pieces, bone and all.

Then I look closer.  I dip my spoon in to remove what is indeed a bone.  However, attached to the bone is a chicken foot.  I burst out laughing and reach for my camera.

Nice and clean after being boiled for stock, this chicken foot looks disturbingly like tiny human fingers.

I have a lot of fun that evening and the next day showing the photo to my fellow travelers.  Already I know this will be a trip to remember—for more reasons than one but especially for getting a chicken foot in my soup.  Much better than getting the bay leaf.

The China Journals, What Makes a Trip a Success? Part One

Mexico

(This time last year I was on a Road Scholar tour in China and Tibet.  I've been trying to figure out how to tell you about three things that happened during that trip.  Today's news gave me the answer)

 The China Journals

What Makes a Trip Successful?

Part One

Television news today has been full of reports about the Italian Court overturning the murder conviction of American exchange student Amanda Knox, who has been in prison there for four years.

Ready, set, go!

It reminded me of a couple things—the caning of an American who was convicted in Singapore of vandalizing automobiles by spray-painting them.  Another American over-stayed his visa in Singapore and was facing caning.

How frightening, I thought, to be in trouble in foreign lands, unable to speak the language, dealing with unfamiliar legal systems.

The second thing I’ve been thinking about is Simon, our affable, talented, and knowledgeable tour guide in Australia.  Near the end of our trip, Simon was talking about his version of a successful tour, which differed from ours.

We, of course, thought about hot air ballooning at sunrise in the Outback, riding camels, and Uluru (also known as Ayers Rock.  We thought about Christy bungee jumping in Queenstown, New Zealand, to mark her 50^th birthday, and the fabulous Sofitel resort in Fiji where we stayed.

A perfect swan dive for her 50th birthday.

Simon’s concerns were more prosaic—no weather delays that would necessitate a scramble to find rooms for a large group, no illnesses, and so on.

And then he said, “I didn’t have to get anyone out of jail and there were no international incidents.”  I looked at him closely.  He wasn’t kidding.  Those things had happened before, he said.

Russia

While Amanda scurries to get out of Italy, I think of a few instances where tour guides have cautioned about certain things.  

In Russia, our guide told us not to ask a group of students about Chechnya.  “They are students,” she said, “not politicians.”

In Tibet, our guide sternly warned us against taking photos of the multitude of armed Chinese soldiers that were everywhere.  There would be consequences, she said.  And, when we visited the Potola Palace, she stressed the importance of our entire group exiting the palace in sixty minutes or less.  She would be fined if we went overtime.

Germany

But, unlike Simon, I look for other indicies to proclaim a trip successful.  In the next three days, I will tell you about the three things that made my trip to China and Tibet a resounding success.  Be advised:  Those three things are not what you would think.

(to be continued)

Mexico

Nice guys finish where?

Jr. Mt. Marathon winner

Remember my neighbor Miles Knotek, the 16 year old who won the 2011 Mt. Marathon junior race in Seward this year?  The one who posted the second fastest time ever?  Who finished a minute and fifteen seconds faster than the second place runner?

Yeah, that Miles.

Since then he’s won a few other varsity races, including the high school Regionals for 1-2-3-A schools last weekend.  He was also selected as the most valuable runner in Regionals.  After that, at least one television sports announcer mentioned his name.

Today Miles won the State Championship meet in Anchorage.  It looked dicey from a spectator’s view for almost the entire race because another boy led in the 5000m course.  Miles was on his shoulder the whole time.

Two hundred yards from the finish line, and in full view of the spectators crowded into the arena, Miles pulled his Secretariat move and sprinted ahead.  He finished first in 16:23 minutes, fully nine seconds ahead of the boy he’d run with the entire race.

How about that?  Nice guys DO finish first.

 ***

(From milesplit.com)

• Sep 24, 2011  Miles ran a PR of 16:18.55 in the 5000m at Region III Championships, placing first.
• Sep 09, 2011  Miles ran a PR of 10:10.07 in the 3000m at ACS Class Challenge, placing first.
• Aug 27, 2011  Miles ran a 16:20.00 in the 5000m at Skyview Invite, placing second.
• Aug 20, 2011  Miles ran a 17:04.70 in the 5000m at Bartlett Invitational, placing 7th.
• Aug 15, 2011  Miles ran a 17:42.00 in the 5000m at Nikiski Class Races, placing first.
  
  PR means personal record

Nap Time in the Cove

Each afternoon when it's warm in Halibut Cove, the seagulls gather at this place for nap time.

While all seems calm and peaceful, I suspect it is not without initial competition.

King of the roof.