It’s hard to beat an experience that is as uplifting as that of visiting Everest base camp. Neither the beauty nor the wonderful people alone could have achieved the state of tranquility I found myself in.
The only thing that could have improved on this is to have spent more time there, to have camped out and felt even closer with nature. That was the plan, but it didn’t happen, such are the restrictions of organised tours. Is it only me, or are people generally promised the stars and dumped on the moon? However much of an improvement my Tibetan guide may have been, he was still reluctant to fulfill my wishes to camp out, away from civilisation. No matter how I’ve tried putting it, and I’ve been assured by the agency these wishes have been made known to the guides, they have found any excuse possible to transport me from town to town, from hotel to hotel. (Photo: A rather affluent beggar - Shigatse, Tibet)
And so I found myself deposited in Shigatse, at another hotel, another run of the mill, glitzy tourist trap. “This is cheap price,” I’m assured by the guide. To be honest I’ve almost given up trying to object, my thinking isn’t at it’s clearest or most understandable. Yes, in a word, my head’s a wee bit F****d at the moment. We seem to have skipped between the worst hovels and the most expensive hotels, the difference in price didn’t always reflect the difference in quality. But for once paying slightly more was worth it, to have internet in my room. I wanted contact with home; hey it was my Mum’s birthday, I wanted to wish her a happy day! But it was more than just birthday wishes. Since receiving bad news of another tragic accident within Cai’s peer group, my emotions were all over the place. I wanted contact with my family, I wanted to hear familiar voices. I could have handled the emotional stress isolated in the wilds, in solitude, but not stuck in a hotel room alone, not wandering the streets of a strange city on my own. (Photo: Monastic life - Shigatse, Tibet)
Every day travelling through Tibet has been like a film gradually unrolling, a glorious landscape unwinding before my eyes, every minute of every day. But it’s failed to hit the mark. Being driven from place to place, escorted by my chaperones, hasn’t been fulfilling, not as I’m used to. Moments of wonderment have come and gone, but I feel cut off from the amazing world I’m passing through. Chances to stop and mingle have been few and far between, I’ve yet to feel at one with my surroundings, like I do when mounted on my motorcycle. Many times I’ve wondered on the wisdom of my choice to continue in a hired vehicle, with a constant escort. From the Tingri valley we passed through a rich and fertile land, a natural world of simple folks working their butts off to survive; from the comfort of a chauffer driven Landcruiser it was hard to associate with the land we passed through. (Photo: Churning Yak butter - Nr Lhasa, Tibet)
Shigatse is a mainly Tibetan town, though swarming with Chinese tourists. The road has become chocked full of tourist buses and groups of 4WD cars of happy snappers. God, I’ve become one of the masses; it doesn’t rest easy on my soul. Luckily my visit to the monastery was a quiet one, the hoards didn’t arrive until I was leaving. I was blessed, I wandered peacefully, with only the monks to disturb the tranquility. As one adjusted his bag I spied a bottle of beer hidden within, my how the world has changed. Not only sparkly watches and mobile phones, now inebriation relies on external fortification rather than inner devotion. It was also housekeeping day, the monks were busy sweeping and tidying, a task that apparently didn’t bring out the best in all of them. A couple of situations unrolled before my very eyes, almost a scuffle between two initiates, signs of bullying from superiors. But in all fairness, it was a far cry from the dog eat dog world of outside life. (Photo: My boudoir - Lhasa, Tibet)
Between towns and cities Tibet has increasingly been a hive of productivity since travelling south from Mount Kailash. The countryside has been busy with harvest time, all and sundry hard at it, if not with the physical task of harvesting, then with the responsibility of overseeing the livestock. Even kids as young as the pre-teens are left to ensure the safety of the families animals. Bearing in mind the inability of Europe’s youth to take responsibility for themselves this is a pretty remarkable fete. It broke my heart to see a young girl almost apoplectic at the sight of her family’s sheep being panicked and driven in a frenzy in all directions by my driver forcing his way through the flock, horn blaring. Poor thing, it was her worst nightmare. All I could think of was the ignorance of my driver, his lack of understanding, lack of care; he actually seemed amused by the event. How I wish I could make a difference, maybe I’m too cowardly to force the issue, maybe I should do more than show mild disapproval. (Photo: Potala Palace - Lhasa, Tibet)
But onto Lhasa, the true home of the Delai Lhama, the spiritual centre of Tantric Buddhism. Probably the two most important aspects of Lhasa for Tibetans is the Potala Palace and the Jokhang Temple; the former being the official residence of of his holiness, the latter venerated for the statue of Sakyamuni, who we consider, ‘The Buddha,” though there are many Bodhisattvas; those who have attained enlightenment. A constant flow of pilgrims circle the old town that encompasses the temple. People of all ages, of all walks of life, complete many circuits, thus ridding themselves of accumulated sin. They all walk clockwise in their endeavours, many completing the circuit by prostrating themselves every inch of the way. It isn’t obligatory to walk clockwise, though I do wonder whether we accumulate sin by walking in the opposite direction. I think I’ve achieved a balance since arriving, so I’m still an awfully bad sinner. (Photo: It's for your own protection, honest! - Lhasa, Tibet)
The Temple is the heart of the old town, which is a wonderfully lively place; busy, bustling, truly alive. It may be thick with tourists, but the locals and Tibetan pilgrims easily outnumber them. Lining the devotional route stalls sell every imaginable item of tat a tourist could desire, it’s the purely for them, there is little to interest the pilgrims. Almost every side street is filled with shops and stalls for the locals; which I guess is good, there is little to tempt the devout from their religious administrations. Probably the biggest distraction is the constant trooping of the security forces, through every part of the old town, but in particular the circuit around the temple. Every couple of minutes a patrol forces its way through the throng of devout; one commander, at least three with automatic rifles, and one with a fire extinguisher. It’s a sad fact that most protests against the Chinese occupation are by the self-immolation of monks; and we can’t have that can we? (Photo: Never too old for devotion - Lhasa, Tibet)
As for the Potala Palace, what a fantastic place. A seething hub of despicable tourism possibly, but so beautiful, so phenomenally gorgeous to visit. I nearly didn’t bother when told I had to hire a guide to visit at all, I nearly bailed out when joining the tourist throng at the gate; I’m so glad I didn’t though! True, there were constant tour groups hustling through, with barely enough time to even see what the guide was talking about. They were hustled through at a stupid rate, too fast to appreciate anything. People came with bundles of 1 Yuan notes, thrusting them through wire mesh safety netting, hurling them over wooden barriers, even lobbing them over the heads of anyone in front. Clasping their hands in supplication they hardly even noticed what it was they paid homage to. For me it was ugly, it was a show of false reverence, very few managed more than a superfluous imitation of sincerity. (Photo: Modern monk - Lhasa, Tibet)
Initially my only thoughts were, “what the hell am I doing here”? My guide knew how negative my thoughts are on being lead around by the hand, being filled with facts I’ll never remember, hustled through to a set timetable. He done the wise thing, took me in through the gate and said you’re on your own. And as I reached the first walk-through of the Red Palace, and saw the tour groups packed in tight, I retreated. Attempting to cut in front had me turned back by security. The guy was trying to help, gesturing the correct entry point, trying to lead me in. No chance, I gestured there was too many people and backed completely away. I hung around for nearly half an hour, when it went quiet I ventured in. You know what, it was amazing! The opulence, the beauty, the vast wealth invested in thousands of years of devotion was truly spectacular. Hardly a beam of wood anywhere was left undecorated, not a single surface of anything was unadorned. Never before have I seen such attention to detail, such a huge display of worship to one central theme; the propagators and key followers of one individual faith.
I actually abhor the waste of money and resources thrown at opulent shows of wealth under the guise of religious devotion. Seeing countless stupas and tombs with thousands of kilos of gold, and millions of precious stones, is gross. Such wealth would be better spent feeding the poverty struck areas of the world, maintaining a balance of health and wealth for the whole planet. But in all honesty, when immersing myself in these places of reverence, I feel the spiritual pull, I get off on the profoundly intoxicating nature of tranquility. So instead of getting pissed off, rather than storm through in a huff, I stood back and waited. I spent all morning in the palace, each time a tour group caught up with me I retreated into a corner and let them pass. I took my time and thoroughly enjoyed it. I didn’t need to throw money at every available opportunity, but I seemed to appreciate much more than those around me. It doesn’t do to just go through the motions, I’ve seen this displayed before my very eyes here. I need to bear this in mind, adopt it into my own life. If your heart isn’t into what you’re doing, you’re doing something wrong. Now I need to carry that with me, keep it foremost in my mind. There is no point travelling because it’s easier than being at home, if I’m getting nothing out of it, it’s time to quite, seek some other solace in life. (Photo: Prayer wheels - Lhasa, Tibet)
The only thing that could have improved on this is to have spent more time there, to have camped out and felt even closer with nature. That was the plan, but it didn’t happen, such are the restrictions of organised tours. Is it only me, or are people generally promised the stars and dumped on the moon? However much of an improvement my Tibetan guide may have been, he was still reluctant to fulfill my wishes to camp out, away from civilisation. No matter how I’ve tried putting it, and I’ve been assured by the agency these wishes have been made known to the guides, they have found any excuse possible to transport me from town to town, from hotel to hotel. (Photo: A rather affluent beggar - Shigatse, Tibet)
And so I found myself deposited in Shigatse, at another hotel, another run of the mill, glitzy tourist trap. “This is cheap price,” I’m assured by the guide. To be honest I’ve almost given up trying to object, my thinking isn’t at it’s clearest or most understandable. Yes, in a word, my head’s a wee bit F****d at the moment. We seem to have skipped between the worst hovels and the most expensive hotels, the difference in price didn’t always reflect the difference in quality. But for once paying slightly more was worth it, to have internet in my room. I wanted contact with home; hey it was my Mum’s birthday, I wanted to wish her a happy day! But it was more than just birthday wishes. Since receiving bad news of another tragic accident within Cai’s peer group, my emotions were all over the place. I wanted contact with my family, I wanted to hear familiar voices. I could have handled the emotional stress isolated in the wilds, in solitude, but not stuck in a hotel room alone, not wandering the streets of a strange city on my own. (Photo: Monastic life - Shigatse, Tibet)
Every day travelling through Tibet has been like a film gradually unrolling, a glorious landscape unwinding before my eyes, every minute of every day. But it’s failed to hit the mark. Being driven from place to place, escorted by my chaperones, hasn’t been fulfilling, not as I’m used to. Moments of wonderment have come and gone, but I feel cut off from the amazing world I’m passing through. Chances to stop and mingle have been few and far between, I’ve yet to feel at one with my surroundings, like I do when mounted on my motorcycle. Many times I’ve wondered on the wisdom of my choice to continue in a hired vehicle, with a constant escort. From the Tingri valley we passed through a rich and fertile land, a natural world of simple folks working their butts off to survive; from the comfort of a chauffer driven Landcruiser it was hard to associate with the land we passed through. (Photo: Churning Yak butter - Nr Lhasa, Tibet)
Shigatse is a mainly Tibetan town, though swarming with Chinese tourists. The road has become chocked full of tourist buses and groups of 4WD cars of happy snappers. God, I’ve become one of the masses; it doesn’t rest easy on my soul. Luckily my visit to the monastery was a quiet one, the hoards didn’t arrive until I was leaving. I was blessed, I wandered peacefully, with only the monks to disturb the tranquility. As one adjusted his bag I spied a bottle of beer hidden within, my how the world has changed. Not only sparkly watches and mobile phones, now inebriation relies on external fortification rather than inner devotion. It was also housekeeping day, the monks were busy sweeping and tidying, a task that apparently didn’t bring out the best in all of them. A couple of situations unrolled before my very eyes, almost a scuffle between two initiates, signs of bullying from superiors. But in all fairness, it was a far cry from the dog eat dog world of outside life. (Photo: My boudoir - Lhasa, Tibet)
Between towns and cities Tibet has increasingly been a hive of productivity since travelling south from Mount Kailash. The countryside has been busy with harvest time, all and sundry hard at it, if not with the physical task of harvesting, then with the responsibility of overseeing the livestock. Even kids as young as the pre-teens are left to ensure the safety of the families animals. Bearing in mind the inability of Europe’s youth to take responsibility for themselves this is a pretty remarkable fete. It broke my heart to see a young girl almost apoplectic at the sight of her family’s sheep being panicked and driven in a frenzy in all directions by my driver forcing his way through the flock, horn blaring. Poor thing, it was her worst nightmare. All I could think of was the ignorance of my driver, his lack of understanding, lack of care; he actually seemed amused by the event. How I wish I could make a difference, maybe I’m too cowardly to force the issue, maybe I should do more than show mild disapproval. (Photo: Potala Palace - Lhasa, Tibet)
But onto Lhasa, the true home of the Delai Lhama, the spiritual centre of Tantric Buddhism. Probably the two most important aspects of Lhasa for Tibetans is the Potala Palace and the Jokhang Temple; the former being the official residence of of his holiness, the latter venerated for the statue of Sakyamuni, who we consider, ‘The Buddha,” though there are many Bodhisattvas; those who have attained enlightenment. A constant flow of pilgrims circle the old town that encompasses the temple. People of all ages, of all walks of life, complete many circuits, thus ridding themselves of accumulated sin. They all walk clockwise in their endeavours, many completing the circuit by prostrating themselves every inch of the way. It isn’t obligatory to walk clockwise, though I do wonder whether we accumulate sin by walking in the opposite direction. I think I’ve achieved a balance since arriving, so I’m still an awfully bad sinner. (Photo: It's for your own protection, honest! - Lhasa, Tibet)
The Temple is the heart of the old town, which is a wonderfully lively place; busy, bustling, truly alive. It may be thick with tourists, but the locals and Tibetan pilgrims easily outnumber them. Lining the devotional route stalls sell every imaginable item of tat a tourist could desire, it’s the purely for them, there is little to interest the pilgrims. Almost every side street is filled with shops and stalls for the locals; which I guess is good, there is little to tempt the devout from their religious administrations. Probably the biggest distraction is the constant trooping of the security forces, through every part of the old town, but in particular the circuit around the temple. Every couple of minutes a patrol forces its way through the throng of devout; one commander, at least three with automatic rifles, and one with a fire extinguisher. It’s a sad fact that most protests against the Chinese occupation are by the self-immolation of monks; and we can’t have that can we? (Photo: Never too old for devotion - Lhasa, Tibet)
As for the Potala Palace, what a fantastic place. A seething hub of despicable tourism possibly, but so beautiful, so phenomenally gorgeous to visit. I nearly didn’t bother when told I had to hire a guide to visit at all, I nearly bailed out when joining the tourist throng at the gate; I’m so glad I didn’t though! True, there were constant tour groups hustling through, with barely enough time to even see what the guide was talking about. They were hustled through at a stupid rate, too fast to appreciate anything. People came with bundles of 1 Yuan notes, thrusting them through wire mesh safety netting, hurling them over wooden barriers, even lobbing them over the heads of anyone in front. Clasping their hands in supplication they hardly even noticed what it was they paid homage to. For me it was ugly, it was a show of false reverence, very few managed more than a superfluous imitation of sincerity. (Photo: Modern monk - Lhasa, Tibet)
Initially my only thoughts were, “what the hell am I doing here”? My guide knew how negative my thoughts are on being lead around by the hand, being filled with facts I’ll never remember, hustled through to a set timetable. He done the wise thing, took me in through the gate and said you’re on your own. And as I reached the first walk-through of the Red Palace, and saw the tour groups packed in tight, I retreated. Attempting to cut in front had me turned back by security. The guy was trying to help, gesturing the correct entry point, trying to lead me in. No chance, I gestured there was too many people and backed completely away. I hung around for nearly half an hour, when it went quiet I ventured in. You know what, it was amazing! The opulence, the beauty, the vast wealth invested in thousands of years of devotion was truly spectacular. Hardly a beam of wood anywhere was left undecorated, not a single surface of anything was unadorned. Never before have I seen such attention to detail, such a huge display of worship to one central theme; the propagators and key followers of one individual faith.
I actually abhor the waste of money and resources thrown at opulent shows of wealth under the guise of religious devotion. Seeing countless stupas and tombs with thousands of kilos of gold, and millions of precious stones, is gross. Such wealth would be better spent feeding the poverty struck areas of the world, maintaining a balance of health and wealth for the whole planet. But in all honesty, when immersing myself in these places of reverence, I feel the spiritual pull, I get off on the profoundly intoxicating nature of tranquility. So instead of getting pissed off, rather than storm through in a huff, I stood back and waited. I spent all morning in the palace, each time a tour group caught up with me I retreated into a corner and let them pass. I took my time and thoroughly enjoyed it. I didn’t need to throw money at every available opportunity, but I seemed to appreciate much more than those around me. It doesn’t do to just go through the motions, I’ve seen this displayed before my very eyes here. I need to bear this in mind, adopt it into my own life. If your heart isn’t into what you’re doing, you’re doing something wrong. Now I need to carry that with me, keep it foremost in my mind. There is no point travelling because it’s easier than being at home, if I’m getting nothing out of it, it’s time to quite, seek some other solace in life. (Photo: Prayer wheels - Lhasa, Tibet)
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