Rishikesh

another Chotiwala
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We hired a driver and Jeep in Gangotri to take us to Rishikesh. When we awoke in the morning in Gangotri, we crawled out of our sleeping bags and put on our fleeces and down sweaters. It had snowed on the peaks. It was a long day even though we didn't stop for meals. We left at 7 a.m. and arrived at 8 p.m.. By mid-day, we were perspring in our T-shirts.
Rishikesh is a holy city on the Ganges River. When the Beatles went to study with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi way back in the last century, this is where they stayed.
Although it's not as large or busy as Haridwar, many Indian tourists come here to visit the temples and river and to assemble for additional tours into the Himalayas. There are two famous pedestrian suspension bridges here, Lakshman Jhula and Shivanand Jhula. The Photographers' Association stays busy taking photos at Lakshman Jhula. A large sign says you need a permit from the Association to take photos. You can take rafts down the Ganges for whitewater thrills.
The main indusry seems to be yoga education for Westerners. A dozen women were taking a class at our hotel. Western male students tend to dress all in white and have beards and dreadlocks. Bookstores have comprehensive libraries with ancient texts to contemporary "how to" and inspirational works. Signs tout techniques; banners advertise swamis. Our local map lists about thirty ashrams. A number of people appear to have "gone native" and settled here to unwind, absorb the local culture and pursue enlightenment. Many Indian babas line the streets and can be seen bathing in the Ganges. I'm not sure of local protocol, but too many of the babas are begging for five and ten rupees for chai. More than a few are smoking and selling hashish.

a Target

As a Westerner, I am targeted by people that want my money. The vast majority of people saying hello or approaching me want me to buy a service or an item--or simply give them money. It happens so frequently and so brazenly that I find myself avoiding looking at people or answering their hellos. As I am walking, people step right in front of me and thrust some article of merchandise in my face. People pull at my sleeve and hold on to my elbow. One young beggar sat on my foot.
I do meet people who are interested in me as a tourist and foreigner; they want to talk or take my photo. But they are in the minority. I find myself with my defenses up and initially reluctant to talk with anyone.
I suppose it's not so onerous and poor people are simply trying to make a living. But it's so in my face. The frequency and intensity are tiresome. In an hour's walk it might happen 10 - 15 times. In certain spots, it can happen 10 - 15 times in ten minutes. I met two Brits. They were keeping score. After three weeks, they were looking for encounter #4, meaning someone would say Hello to them and have an interest in them personally rather than trying to sell or be something.
Philosophically, I have commited to giving to charitable institutions in each country I visited, but not giving to beggars, especially beggars using their children as a means to gain funds.

Gangotri, Ganges headwaters

Gangotri, bathers in Ganges
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We hired a driver to take us from Uttarkashi to Gangotri, an elevation gain of about 2,000 meters in 98 kilometers. Gangotri is in the upper reahes of the Ganges Valley 14 kilometers from the headwaters. I hiked along the Ganges--the mountains and cliffs are spectacular here. The air is crisp and cool. The peaks are rocky and jagged. Most of the trees are evergreen. It reminds me of Nederlands or Georgetown in Colorado. Along the way, I spied "baba homes," caves where ascetics live. The river is a brackish green from the glacier runoff.
The ancient temple is a destination for religious tourism. The Char Dam includes this site plus Yaminotri, Kedernath and Badrinath. Everyday, thousands of tourists show up here. There is no parking available so buses, taxis and cars line the road for 2 kilometers. It's only a one-lane road, so the last few kilimeters take hours.
About 2 p.m. in the afternoon, I saw a mob scene at the temple. Hundreds of pilgrims were trying to push their way inside. There is one door with a single line in and a single line out. But the crowd was blocking people from getting out. They broke down a barricade. One man was yelling at the top of his lungs. Uniformed guards with bamboo batons were trying to remove him, but he broke free and forced his way into the temple. I wonder what kind of spiritual encounter people could have after all the pushing and shoving. I was walking in the lane afterwards and got pushed and shouldered by several men leaving the temple.

Uttarkashi

Uttarkashi, with our driver PK
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We hired a driver to take us from Haridwar to Uttarkashi. We stayed 5 kilometers outside of town at the Shakkir Nature Preserve. "Preserve" is overstated, but they have considerable waterfront on the Ganges in a pretty mountain setting. We stayed in huts (or fixed tents) with attached baths. Meals are included. It's all very civililzed. In late afternoon, they serve tea and biscuits in the shade beside the tent. We are addressed as "sir" and "madam."
In the morning, women with baskets climb the mountain across from our lodging. Men with mules go into the riverbed and sledge hammer stones apart for construction material. Some shepherds drive their flocks to higher ground. A couple of young women gather watercress where a brook enters Mother Ganga.
I read "Touching My Father's Soul" by Jamling Tenzing Norgay. The son of Tenzing Norgay tells how his father became the first man to climb Everest with Sir Edmund Hilary. He also tells his own story of his relationship with the mountain. Many of the places he writes about are places I have just visited. Many of his comments about Tibetan or Sherpa life correspond to what I observed. It's an interesting book that weaves serveral stories and themes together. When I was finished reading it, I gave it to a young climber from the Nehru Mountaineering Institute. He was happy to receive my gift.

Haridwar

Haridwar, Ganga Arti
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We arrived by train about 7 a.m. and were surrounded again by porters, rickshaw drivers and taxi drivers. We walked across the street and had some chai and pastries. We checked into a hotel on the Ganges. From our balcony, we could survey a quarter-mile section of river including the sacred Ghat, Har-Ki-Pauri. There were bathers and swimmers, saddhus in orange robes, street vendors with blankets on the ground and middle-class families. There were sacred cows, sacred cows eating garbage and sacred cow manure.
The entire district prohibited automobiles and trucks ( but sadly not motorcycles). Most people walked or used bicycle rickshaws (pedicabs). We used a rickshaw to move our luggage. Our balcony had a warning about monkeys. At the end of the day, about forty monkeys would walk by.
Evening Ceremony (Ganga Arti) -- there is a religious ceremony every evening. We cheked our shoes and entered the holy area. A Hindu priest helped us purchase a little boat made of palm leaves and filled with flower petals. He said prayers for us and our families. We splashed Ganges River water on our foreheads. He lit candles in the little boat and we sent it off into the current. We gave him a donation and sat down to watch the area fill with people.
There were cheers, speakers and uniformed men accepting donations and giving receipts. Many men dressed in white and had their foreheads painted yellow with a red smudge in the center. At dusk, there were gongs, cymbals and bells clanging and clashing loudly. People chanted. A small chair was carried beside the river and lit up with electrical lights. Ancient temples were illuminated. Many torches were lit. The clanging and chanting got louder. Many small boats were floating down the Ganges with tiny lit wicks. The singing slowed, the crowd grew quiet and dispersed.
Bazaar -- behind our hotel were narrow alleys that contained a marketplace or bazaar. The goods were targeted toward Indian tourists and included jewelry, clothing and linen, sourvenirs, books and fruit.
A Holy City -- no alchol or eating of meat is allowed. People have been coming here for thousands of years. On certain occasions, over 1 million people converge here.
Few Westerners -- during three days, we saw four Westerners.
Chief Medical Officer -- every few hours, a squad of uniformed officers went through the streets to clear the crowd. They carry bamboo batons. People roll up their mats and scurry out of the way. One officer stopped and introduced himself. He did not speak English, but we carried on a conversation anyway. He showed us his identification, Chief Medical Officer. I wished him well and said I thought he had a very difficult job.
Hot -- it is hot and humid beone anything I've eperienced before. There are limited sanitary facilities. Thousands of people are bathing in the river. A very large population of street people live on both banks of the river. The beggars have significant deformities, leprosy and missing limbs. Although people are always sweeping and hauling away garbage, it feels dirty to me, as though germs are everywhere and the outbeak of disease is imminent.
Middle Class -- most of the people in Hardiwar appeared to be middle class tourists from other parts of India. They are on religious pilgimages. They are well-dressed and have their families with them. We took gondola rides up to the two temples on the surrounding hills (Chandi Devi Temple and Mansa Devi Temple). While standing on line for the gondolas, we met several families. Usually an adolescent would ask us in English, "Where are you from?" Eventually, we would meet everyone in the family which usually included three generations. This felt comfortable and nomal.
Foreign -- after traveling in South America, China, Tibet and Nepal, Haridwar felt most foreign to me. I have no frame of reference for the people, language, customs and rituals. I've never seen anything like it before.

Most people are honest...

Hardiwar, hotel balcony sign
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We landed in Delhi, went through immigration, got some rupees from the ATM, and headed for the taxi stand. I showed the dispatcher our railroad receipt and prepaid the fare. I showed the same information to the driver who showed it to the taxi chief. We were on our way. As we drove through Delhi in rush hour traffic (do they have rush hour or is it always that way?), I thought to myself, the driver could be taking me anywhere.
We arrived at the train station and it began to pour rain. We were surrounded by porters who were all talking at once. We were told this was New Delhi train station andour train left from Old Delhi train station. I went inside the station and pushed my way to the front and confirmed I was indeed at the wrong station.
Back outside we were again surrounded by talking porters and cab drivers. One cab driver said he would take us to Old Delhi for 1,300 rupees; we had just paid 250 rupees from the airport, a much farther distance. One man spoke English and said he would take us to buy Metro tickets and show us the way to the subway station which was on the other side of the railroad tracks. We followed him into a building with a big sign, Department of Tourism. It felt good to get out of the rain. Someone at a computer terminal said, Hi, asked us where we were from and where we wanted to go. He began to advise us that we really wanted a tourist package for the four main Himalayan Hindu Temples, the Char Dham.
He asked if he could look at our railroad tickets. He scruitinized the computer screen for sometime and toggled the keyboard. "I am sorry to tell you that your train has been delayed 12 hours. Your best alternative is to get a refund and instead buy a car-train ticket. Dawn saw through the scam immediately. I said we would go the correct station now, check into a hotel near there and rest for the night and take the delayed train in the morning. We thanked them and left.
I returned to the train station, pushed my way to the head of the line and asked the attendant to the best of his knowledge did he think the train was delayed. He said, No, it should not be. Back into the rain and throng of porters and cab drivers, I said loudly that I would pay 60 rupees to get to Old Delhi station. Everyone was aghast. Finally, we settled on 180 rupees.
Our driver drove like a madman. We arrived on time, I gave him 200 rupees and he beamed with delight and raised his hands in prayer and said, Namaste. The conductor said our train was on time. We found the passenger list and our names and ages were listed correctly.
We had two berths, a little sink, clean bedding and towels, a door that closed, air conditioning and a fan. We awoke in the moning a few stations before Haridwar.

Khatmandu airport

Khatmandu pedicab
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Security does not make me feel secure.
When we first entered the airline terminal, all our bags were scanned and I was patted down. After we paid our departure fee, but before we checked in at the airline, all our bags were scanned again by a different machine and I was patted down again. After we went through immigration, our carry-ons went through another scanner, we went through a scanner ourselves and I was patted down again. Before we got on the plane, Air India thoroughly went through all our carry-ons and again patted me down. I don't know enough about the instability of the Nepalese government and the Maoist situation to speculate why the security procedures are so numerous.

Freedom

nfldweb026
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Freedom to go where we want and do what we will
Freedom to think what we want--to say it, to write it down
We can read what we want without fear of reprisal or punishment
Freedom to move, to travel, to return, to start again.

I know I like to travel and want to see more of the world than I have seen. I know I'm a tourist, a sightseer and taker of snapshots. Travel gives a sense of accomplishment--I have gone places and done things. I have seen things I did not plan, expect or dream to see. I want to say that travel changes me in a positive way--makes me more flexible, open, aware, and tolerant. I learn tidbits of geography, history, culture, politics, language, and the more practical details of tourism and travel.
I frequently have a good time, am excited by the natural geograhical wonder and fascinated by the human spectacle.
I am not trying to accomplish anything. I write and post my blogs; I shoot and upload my photos. I travel, I photograph, I journal. I post.

Khatmandu

Khatmandu Holy Cow
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Khatmandu is a city, but it is unlike any other city I have been in. It feels like Asia, Indian, and exotic. The streets are abuzz with people, carts, rickshaws, motorcycles and streams of pedestrians. Vendors hawk their wares from stores, stalls and simply sitting on the sidewalks. The streets criss-cross and are more like alleys than streets. There are no proper blocks in the sense that you turn right at several corners and return to your destination.
The colors are bright and the designs intricate. There are many tourists and ex-pats. Restaurants have every type of food imaginable. The weather is warm. Living is easy. It's a good place to walk around, hang out, and relax.
Today we leave Kathmandu and Nepal. We fly to Delhi, India and take the night train to Haridwar.
Our tour group is all but broken up. Once we leave. only two of the original thirteen people will remain in Khatmandu--one will travel three hours by bus to bungee jump into a gorge.
By now, we are rested and have recovered from our various ailments related to altitude, air, water and food.
We have two more weeks until we start our long journey home.

on the possibility of being Unique

Many of us, including myself, endeavor to be unique--to do something different, to feel special. Perhaps to observe the world from a different angle. Or to create something that is indeed creative or at least refreshing.
Through travel, I seek new and different experiences, contact with people that feel foreign or visits to places others have rarely visited.
But as I travel, I am with other tourists, travelers that are part of my group and travelers that are alone or are part of groups of local tourists. Many others have travelled here before me.
Everyone in our group has a camera. At some spots (the marker at Everest Base Camp), people take turns taking photographs at the same spot. One member of our group has a good DSLR camera; he studied photography in school. I bet he takes good photographs.
Several members of the group keep journals. I bet some of their stories are remarkably similar to mine.
I don't think it is easy to be unique. Maybe it's impossible. There are at least 1.3 billion Chinese and probably 1.5 billion. They are only one country.
Has someone done everything sometime? What's new?

on Tibetan Buddhism

Potala Palace
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Having visited many monasteries, observed many religious practices, and spoken to a handful of people about Tibetan Buddhism, I come away somewhat disillusioned. I admire Tibetans for their commitment to the Dalai Lama, their belief in his reincarnation and their practice of the ethical tachings of Buddha. Their dedication is immense.
I am dismayed by the focus on rites and rituals, apparent blind religious fervor and lack of commitment to meditation.
The prayer wheel and ultimately, the automatic prayer wheel, highlight my concern. The original Buddha meditated for six years and then started his mission. The teachings of the Buddha and lamas are recorded in Tibetan on parchment know as sutras. The monks read and chant these sutras, presumably for knowledge and inspiration. However, most people are illiterate. Some of them memorize and recite short passages from the sutras. But most, have a written prayer placed inside a prayer wheel. They spin the prayer wheel (clockwise direction only) and believe by spinning it they will attain enlightenment. Some prayer wheels are designed with fins so they spin in the breeze, presumable bestowing benefits to their owners.
Everywhere in Tibet, there are prayer flags, monasteries, temples, prostraters, portraits of the lamas, images and posters of temples and signs of religion. When we were in The Jokhang in Lhasa, we witnessed a mob scene seething to worship a statue.
Prior to Buddhism, Tibetans practiced the Bon religion, a type of Shaminism. Many of these practices have carried over to Tibetan Buddhism.
When I inquired about meditation, I got incomplete responses. The monks apparently spend considerable time chanting sutras, but not meditating. The people spin prayer wheels. Once I was told, to find enlightenment, I must do good works and hope for a better reincarnation in the next life. Some told me that at the higher levels, the lamas have secret mantras and some meditate on these mantras. I had hoped that, like a western church, there would be numerous opportunities to sit in a quiet place in a holy environment with other seekers and meditate. But I did not find that.
As a tourist, Tibetan Buddhism is a wonderful curiousity. Seeing the temples, Buddhas, and sutras and witnessing the religious acts is fascinating. But I did not feel I was a participant nor did I gain in spiritual understanding. Reportedly, the Chinese government is rebuilding the monasteries to serve as tourist attractions. I guess that worked on me.
As economic progress and education continue, as the impact of western fashion, culture, and thinking impact the younger generation, I think the religious fervor and commitment will decline.

I think Tibetans should have every opportunity for self-determination. They seem happy and commited to their way of life. Having said this, their life was and is--by my perspective, a tough life. Tibetan nomads spend their days in manual labor. Sanitation and hygiene are poor. Education is lacking. Many are isolated. The visit to the School for the Blind revealed that the blind are regarded as being punished for misdeeds in previous lives. One blind boy was told he probably was a murderer in his past life. Ignorance and superstition cause poverty and inequity. I cannot say the Chinese were right to "liberate" Tibet. But having done so, they are bringing welcome changes, if only out of their own self-interests.

Act of Non-Violence

a yak!
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

The Dalai Lama, for spiritual reasons is opposed to violence. For this reason, there is no active guerilla movement within Tibet against the Chinese.
Tibetans have long used skins and fur as clothing. It is part of their nomadic heritage. Recently, the Dalai Lama asked that as a sign of non-violence to animals, Tibetans, not use skin and furs as clothing.
All over Tibet, Tibetans burned their skins and fur.

Good-bye, China

Mao portrait
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

As I leave China, I have mixed feelings. I really liked the country and the people. But the whole experience is tainted by the Tibetan situation. Also, the Tibetan situation provides insight into the political process in China more generally.
Everywhere I went in China, people were friendly and open. They work incredibly hard. Having unleashed capitalism and focused on infrastructure development, the entire country feels something like a country comng out of an economic depression . In some geographic areas, there is a boom town mentality. The food and cultural heritage is diverse, interesting and appealing.
Tibet feels like an occupied country, one that is being dismantled and reconstructed as a Chinese appendage. The old country has been geographically divided up and parts assimilated into other provinces. In Lhasa, the capital, Chinese (Han) outnumber Tibetans 2:1. The Tibetans are very different from the Chinese in appearance, dress, language, food, religion and temperment. On one hand, I think, Well, it's been 50 years, Tibetans, forget it. Accept the political reality and move on. On the other hand, I think, it's just not right.

In Lhasa, on May Day, at the Summer Palace, the Tibetans were performing an opera under a canopy. They were dressed in folk clothes and singing folk songs. A very large Chinese policeman, well over six-foot marched around the dancers along the periphery of the audience. He wore a crash helmet, dark sunglasses, a baton stick and boots. I felt intimidated. A small detachment of officers stood in between the stage and rehearsal room.
For long periods of time, I could not access my eMail or website. It worked fine when I first entered China. An acquaintance said he received a "Free Tibet" eMail and his eMail was down for days. When attempting to access her eMail, Dawn received a message saying it was blocked. I am posting this outside China and would not send this post while in China.
When we went through a Police Checkpoint, our party was detained for a couple of hours. I am unsure of the reason, but a Chinese officer scolded our Tibetan driver for most of that time. He waved his forefinger in the driver's face.
A member of a farming community in Tibet told me half the crops he grows go to the army.
An army of 300,000 resides In Shigatse, a city in Tibet,.
After the "Free Tibet" incident at Everest Base Camp, they moved the Base Camp vendors away from the area and added camps for two detachments of Chinese.
To do business in China, I understand you must partner with the government. Half the profits go to the government. But the government is the local official who is typically a Chinese Communist Party member.
I am just a tourist. I am not a Sinologist. I don't know how it works. Perhaps I spoke with the wrong people and drew incorrect implicatons. I know I better appreciate U.S. style transparency in government. Despite the economic progress, I am suspicious of the goernment, sad for the Tibetans and concerned for the future of the world. Cellhpones, movies, and Internet are changing the way the Cihinese think, I believe that is unstoppable.

One Time Zone

All of China from east to west, from Beijing to Zhangmu is on one time zone. In Tibet, people tend to wake up late and stay up late according to the clock, because it gets light and stays light later. Nepal is 2 hours and 15 minutes later than China. India is 15 minutes later than Nepal.

Written Language

Chinese calligraphy is only about ten percent pictorial, meaning the characters are representational and look like something. A typical newspaper might contain 2,000 to 3,000 characters. The characters are part symbol and part phonetic.Tibetan writing uses the Sanskrit alphabet. There are 30 consonants and five vowels. Squiggles aboe and below the characters change the sound. The letters aren't letters like English, but rather short syllables. All the letters/syllables end in an "a."

Dhulikhel

hard work
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

As I write this, I am sitting on the balcony of a room at High View Resort. I've awoken early (still on Tibet time -- 2 hours and 15 minutes earlier). An expansive valley opens up bfore me. I've been told you can see the Himalayas from here but it's cloudy and foggy now after last night's rain. A cuckoo is calling, a rooster crowing, insects chirping and someone is singing a Nepali song. I'm sitting in my T-shirt sipping green tea I bought in Beijing.
Today we will take a walk in the local village with a Nepales guide. We will learn about the Hindu caste system. Tomorrow we will go to Kathmandu and the following day our Intrepid tour will end.
We are resting. Since we left Lhasa, we have been on the go, traveling most of the day on rought roads and staying in guesthouses with latrines and little in the way of hot water or showers. Our laundry is getting cleaned. They have good food here with an attentive staff. It's a good place to recharge.

Nepal

traditional dress
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Like the descent from Tingri to Zhangmu, the change from Tibet to Nepal was immediate and sudden. The bone structure of the people was thinner and the skin tanner. The intonation of the voices changed. Red dots were on many foreheads. Women, in particular, wear bright pastel colors.
We boarded a bus and remarkably the roads got worse. They drive British-syle on the left side of the road. The roads themselves are narrower and fall off into deep cliffs without shoulders or guard rails. It's important not to rest your elbow on an open window or the mirror of a passing truck or bus will surely take it off. The windows are open and our down jackets and fleeces have been put away. Waterfalls are in abundance. Everything is green. People use wood for fuel.

Zhangmu

me taking photo
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We drove most of the day about six hours from Tingri to the border town of Zhangmu. On the way we drove over two high passes over 5,000 meters. At the last one, our guide said, Good-bye, Tibet. The wind was blowing hard; we had our hats, gloves and down jackets on. Before us was an array of mountain peaks covered with clouds. There were several automatic prayer wheels, meaning the prayer wheels had been equipped with fins or cups so they rotated by themselves in the wind. The top of the pass was strung with the now familiar prayer flags, cotas and related colorful debris. Beyond the mountains was a valley. The wind and clouds blew up from the valley.
Good-bye, Tibet. We drove into the valley and descended at a rapid pace. The dry rock, sand and stone gave way to vegetation and water. We began to see birds. Farmers had green crops growing on their plots. There was the never ending road construction, but now there was heavy equipment.
We plummeted furter and it began to rain, a slow drizzle. I could feel my sinuses relax as they soaked in the humidity. The road followed a deep gorge. Mist and fog covered verdant, green peaks. Eventually we made it to Zhangmu, a small border town clinging to the side of the cliff.
We stayed at a guesthouse. In the morning, we had breakfast and got in line to go through Chinese customs. Our Jeep drivers took us as far as they could. We hiked the remaining 5 kilometers into Nepal.

Tingri (4,500 meters)

view from Tingri
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We had a very rough ride to Tingri. We were holding on with at least one hand most of the time. We forded numerous rivers and drove kilometers without seeing a single yak, nomad or sheep. Desolate territory. The Tingri Guesthouse had a hot, communal shower. With sunset, the clouds parted and in the distance we saw several 8,000 meter plus peaks including Everest and 8,201 meter Cho Ogu.

Puffed

Our fellow travelers call a flashlight a torch. But the best line is, "I get puffed going to the loo." It was said at altitude and means, just getting up from bed to go the bathroom leaves one breathless.

Mt. Everest Base Camp (4,980 and 5,200 meters)

me and the Mountain
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

A long nine hour drive took us from Sakya to Rhongphu, the monastery at the Tibetan Everest Base Camp. We went over the Gyatso Pass at 5,252 meters. We had our first glimpse of Qoomolangma, as the locals call Everest. Everest, at 8,848, is the world's highest mountain and reportedly, continues to grow each year. It was a long and bumpy ride in our 4WD vehicles. It took a lot of work to create a rough road that would not wash out each season.

When we arrived at Rhongbuk Monastery guest house, it was late afternoon. Although there were some clouds on Everest, it was mostly sunny. We sat on a field of boulders and marveled at the sight before us. True to its reputation, Everest is massive and awesome. We took turns taking photographs of each other in front of Everest. A complying yak kept in position to take his photo in front of Everest. Eventually, the cloud at the very top blew over for about ten minutes.

Several people mentioned visiting the monastery but everyone agreed they were "Buddha'd out." The wind picked up and the temperature dropped. We retreated to the guesthouse which was warmed by a yak dung stove. Dinner was simple Tibetan fare (but no yak!). We retired to our rooms four at a time.

I awoke early in the morning to commune with nature and was suprised that I could not see stars and that it was relatively warm. We awoke in the morning to snow. It was cold, windy, wet and dark. After a pancake breakfast, we bundled up for our hike. Base camp was eight kilometers from the guesthouse, about a two-hour hike. The elevation would change from 4,980 to 5,200 meters. At 15,000 feet we were at an altitude above any mountain peak in Colorado.

I had every layer on: T-shirt, Thermax shirt, fleece, down sweater, and rain jacket. Long johns and trekking pants. Glove liners and socks on my hands. And, my brand new Chinese worker's hat with the synthetic fur flaps in the army green. Despite sitting in yak dung smoke and drinking hot jasmine tea, I was somewhere between cold and chilly as we started out.

Walking was difficult. Or, I should say breathing while walking was difficult. Typically, I walk briskly. But, I realized a slow and deliberate walk was required. I tried not to stop, but I frequently decreased my slow walk to an even slower one.

Eventually, we came to the midpoint where vendors sell souvenirs, tea and trinkets. There are horse carts there also if you don't want to walk. I was warming up and breathing more easily. I took off my down sweater for a while. The last part was a steady uphill. We went around a bend and there before us was base camp. Dozens of yaks were saddled up as beasts of burden. Dozens of tents in various colors were segregated by trekking company. The permit office was before us, and a knoll of a hill. There, too, was a new cordoned off Chinese army installation.

We went in front of the permit office and took photos by the plaque. Permits to approach Everest are $10,000 U.S. per person. The fine for crossing the line without a permit is $200 U.S. We climbed the hill to the last point we were permitted. On the plain below us were a half-dozen expedition tent sites. The day before, we met a Serbian team. Two Serbs have summited Everest, but this is the first all Serb team. Later, we met a U.K. team. They had climbed Acancaugua near Santiago, Chile, the tallest mountain n the Americas. Now, they were climbing two sub-peaks of Everest. We also met a Nepali who was climbing with two friends and several sherpas.

In additon to the expedition teams, there was yet another Chinese military installation and an armored vehicle. Later, we would learn that a "Free Tibet" protest had been held at base camp by several Americans. The new military presence was apparently designed to thwart any future protest activities. Within China and until today, we have no additional information other than a protest occurrred. Several Tibetans told us they like Americans because they protested.

We ate our Power Bars and Dove chocolate bar. They were frozen solid. My down jacket was back on and it was snowing again. The clouds hung stubbornly like a white curtain in front of Everest. Occasionally, the curtain ruffled and we could see rock, snow or glacier. But we never saw Everest that day. Base camp is still a long way from the actual mountain. We returned to our monastery, talking with climbers as we walked. The climbers were acclimating and taking conditioning walks as they waited for their bodies to adjust and their turn to try Everest. Later, we would learn that although it was May, not a single team had summited. Two sherpas had and a lone climber.

When we returned to the monastery, we packed up and headed off in our Jeeps.

Sakya (4,280 meters)

Sakya Monastery
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We drove about four hours by Jeep from Shigatse to Sakya. Sakya is the name of the town, monastery and sect. They are not Yellow Hat Sect; I spied several monks with Red Hats. The hotel had western toilets and hot water at night. Although there was no heat, they did have heating pads. At almost 13,000 feet, any comforts were welcome.
The north part of the monastery was first built in 1073. The south part was built in 1268. Much of the monastery is under reconstruction. We entered a very large hall where about 100 Tibetans were singing as they worked. They were renovating the floor. They also kind of line dance and use a tool to pound the floor. The tool is a staff about as tall as a person with a flat, circular weight attached to the bottom.
We entered a large hall. It had 24 pillars (8 x 3). The pillars were each the trunk of a tree. This area of Tibet does not have trees (it has sand and rocks with some runoff water). The trees had been carried from Nepal or India. They were large, magnificent and about three stories tall. They were wider than two people could reach around. The hall contained a large library of scripture. Reportedly, all the original Sanskrit Buddhist scriptures are now lost. However, when the Tibetan language was codified, the scriptures were translated into Tibetan. These scriptures are believed to be the closest to the originals. The monastery is building a school and developing as a scholastic center.
The town dos not get many tourists. Every young child we met said, "Hello, how are you?" The tea houses play DVDs. After school, the children line up outside and peer in through the windows.
The monastery also had a large gold and precious stone stupa. The lama of the Sakya Sect has moved to America, but the monks did not know what city.

D.L., P.L. and Intrigue

painting of Buddhas in Shigatse
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

As an enlightened one, the Dalai Lama (D.L.) returns to earth out of compassion for human beings. He choses the time and place of his birth. The same D.L. reincarnates time and time again. The D.L. works hand-in-hand with the Penchant Lama (P.L.). When the time comes for the D.L. to leave earth and his body, he communicates with the P.L. The D.L. leaves his body and there is a known period of time for the D.L. to be in "heaven," choose his parents, be conceived, born and grow to childhood. After the "death" of the D.L., the P.L. waits several years and then begins to search in the geographical area previously confided by the D.L. When the boy is found, the P.L. administers a series of tests to ascertain that the young child is indeed the reincarnated D.L. The boy D.L. is then taken to Lhasa and raised in the monastery under the tuttleage of the P.L.
When the P.L. leaves his body, the D.L. waits a period of time and then selects a new P.L. and the cycle begins again.
The current intrigue is that the 10th P.L. died in 1989. The D.L., in exile selected a six-year old boy, Gedun Choekyi Nyima in 1995. However, upon the announcement, the boy and his family disappeared. Tibetans believe the boy is either dead or under house arrest in Beijing. In any event, he has disappeared.
The government subsequently announced a new P.L., a more appropriate one. The photo of the government appointed P.L. appears in the temples as the next in line P.L. Since then, the D.L. has announced he will not reincarnate in occupied Tibet.
Presumbaly, once the current D.L. in exile "dies," the government appointed P.L. will find the new D.L. in Tibet. Because the current D.L. has only appointed one P.L., it remains uncertain if a new D.L. will be found.

Shigatse (3,900 meters)

Shigatse, Tashilhunpo
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We had a short drive from Gyantse to Shigatse. After Lhasa, Shigatse is the most important Tibetan city because it is the seat of the Penchant Lama, generally regarded as equal to the Dalai Lama spiritually and second politically. We visited Ta Shi Lhun Po Monastery and walked the kora around the monastery's walls. The monastery is Gelukpa or Yellow Hat Sect and was founded in 1447 by Gedun Drupa, the first Dalai Lama. There are many stupas and burial stupas. The burial stupa of the 4th Panchen Lama contains more than 85 kg of gold and many large jewels. It also contains the highest sitting Maitreya Buddha Statue in the world (it's big). At one time 4,000 monks lived here, but today there are about 600.

Gyantse (3,950 meters)

Gyantse
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We back-track toward Lhasa from Samye to pick up the road to Gyantse. The drive was about ten hours. We had some trouble at a police checkpoint and were delayed an additional hour. On the way, we climbed our first really high pass, the Kamba La at 4,794 meters (about 14,400). We could see snow-capped peaks in the distance. Prayer flags and cotas blew in the wind. Eventually, we came to a huge lake, the holy Lake Yamduck. The Dalai Lama requested no fishing in the lake because is is a holy lake. But the Chinese now are reportedly fishing in the lake. At certain times of the year, pilgrims walk around the lake; it takes several days (unless you are prostrating at each step--then it takes weeks).
We got into a construction zone. Everywhere in China they are building roads, bridges and hydroelectric plants. The local farmers were living in tents and putting up stone walls for the roads, culverts and small dams and jack-hammering their way through hard rock walls. Reportedly, they are paid 10-15 yuan per day. Their counterparts from Chengdu are paid 100 plus yuan per day.
We passed a huge glacier at 5,020 meters. It had a name like Garalong. But someone called it Snowland. There was a huge stupa in front of the glacier and several locals wanting their photographs taken for a modeling fee.
We passed farmers attempting to grow crops in this high, arid climate. They used irrigation ditches. Then we passed a reservoir filling up, a dam, and a hydroelectric plant under construction. I learned a village was moving because it would soon be underwater.
We visited Pelkor Chode in Gyantse. Built in 1427, it has a classic shape of six floors with each higher floor smaller than the lower so it forms a triangle or cone. They had a photography fee, meaning I could take photos. Most temples do not allow indoor photography. Reportedly, the government is encouraging the temples to allow photography to foster tourism. The older monks are appalled by the notion. Some of the younger monks see it as a way of furthering their cause. In any event, I got some good photos (no tripod or flash allowed). From the top of the temple is a good view of the city and old fort.

Samye Monastery

stupa at Samye Monastery
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We're travelling in four Jeeps. We can see the Samye monastery on the other side of the river as we head upstream and cross the bridge. Some pilgrims take a small boat across the river. The terrain is different: sand dunes. The Chinese are said to have harvested all the trees. Now there are short trees in long rows, trying to root into the sand. We stopped at the top of a lookout for photos. Prayer flags were blowing in the wind. A bus of tourists were standing around taking photos and bartering with the vendors. Suddenly, their tour director tells them to quickly get in the bus and they leave. Our tour directors says, "We don't have reservations at the monastery; they don't take any. If we don't get there before they do, we may not have a place to sleep. We are in the lead Jeep. The bus has a half-mile head start, but we gain rapidly on them with the Toyoto Land Cruiser. The bus is swerving back and forth across the road trying to block us, but we overtake it. Dawn and I clap and applaud the driver. He laughs.
We make it first to the monastery. The guesthouse is already full. But our our director gets two large rooms. The room for the men is typically reserved for visiting lamas and has good vibes, Tibet quotations, colorfully painted furniture, photos of spiritual places and portraits of lamas.
Samye Monastery was built in the 8th century by King Trison Detsen. The layout of the monastery grounds is shaped after the Buddhist conception of the universe. We climbed a small hill on the edge of the monastery and could see the layout. There were photogenic yaks within the monastery grounds.

Lhasa to Senjie

our four "Jeeps"
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Four "Jeeps" showed up in front of our hotel at 8:30 a.m. The thirteen of us plus the four drivers and a local guide get into them and head off. We travel about five hours or 215 kilometers up into the mountains.
For much of the route, we followed the Yellow River.
The landscape is remote, but we feel like we are traveling in style. The driver wears a brown sport jacket and matching brown gloves. We are in the Jeep with the guide. He talks to us and tells us about the sites we are seeing.
Any SUV is called a "jeep."

Barkhor

walking the Coura around Jokhang
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Barkhor is the Tibetan neighborhood. Our hotel was in the Barkhor. When we stepped outside our hotel we were in the middle of a market. Merchants had shops and stalls on both sides of the street. People, carts, bicycles and mtorcycles swirled back and forth. Loudspeakers advertised street vendors' wares. The raucous sound of bartering filled the air. A group of sanitation ladies constantly swept the streets. I could smell dust, incense, aging meat, fresh produce and cooking food.
We spent many hours walking around and looking.

Jokhang Temple

Jokhang Temple, where Dalai Lama stayed
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

The Jokhang Temple is centered in Old Lhasa and was buit in 647 A.D. during the time of Strontsan Gampo. King Songsten Gampo had three wives from India, Nepal and China. As we enterered the temple, I marveled at the doors and door jams. The wood is original. So are the wooden pillars and beams.
As we were looking at some statues learning about he Buddha of Compassion, a policeman rushed in and grestured for us to move aside. Hundreds of pilgrims streamed in a frenzied array. We were pushed toward one of the back temples. From my viewpoint, I could see the line of pilgrims making their offerings. Other pilgrims were prostrating at my feet (and on my feet). Our guide explained this particular temple, the Jowo Sakyamuni, was opened infrequently and some people had been waiting for weeks.
The temple is unique in that it includes Buddhas of all four Tibetan sects and is recognized by all Tibetans.
The temple served as an army barracks during the Cutural Revolution and was not destroyed.

Potala Palace

Potala Palace, Dalai Lama residence
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Tibetans pronounce Potala with a hard accent on the first syllable. Since the 17th Century, it has been the home of the Dalai Lama. The building is divided into the Red and White Palaces. The Red was the winter residence of the Dalai Lama until 1959. The White was the offices of the government. Although the Dalai Lama is of the Yellow Hat sect, he was long recognized as the spiritual and political leader of Tibet.
The palace has 1,000 rooms. The building is 13 sories high and will leave you breathless (literally). The White Building is now closed, but we were lucky to tour the Red (tickets are hard to come by). The building contains an enormous number of cultural items and relics. Several of the Dalai Lamas are buried here in Burial Stupas. The stupas are adorned with gold and precious stones in great weight, size and quality. The view from the top is wonderful.
Hundreds of pilgrims walk the "coura" all hours of the day. They walk clock-wise carrying prayer wheels and prayer beads. Frequently they chant as they walk.

Lhasa

us in front of Potala Palace
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Lhasa is the holy capital of Tibet. Its original fame was in the 7th Century when Songtsen Gampo moved the capital here. In the 17th Century, it had a renaissance under the Fifth Dalai Lama. It is now the political capital of the TAR (Tibet Autonomous Region).
I was told the total population is about 600,000 with about 200,000 Tibetans. There is a distinct Tibetan neighborhood. Lhasa is at 3,683 meters which is over 11,000 feet. We spent lot of time acclimatizing and walking around neighborhoods.

On Plane to Lhasa

After spending time in the Tibetan Plateau and Grasslands, I look forward to visiting Lhasa. Even in the hinderlands, posters of Lhasa and, of course, photos of the Dalai Lama, all point to the importance of the capital city. Having spent time at altitude (around 3,300 meters) and suffered from its effects, I am somewhat apprehensive about going even higher (3,683 meters). Chengdu is only a little above sea level. I enjoyed my first really good sleep in a week (even with a 5 a.m. alarm).
From the airplane window, I can see enormous snow-capped Himalayan peaks in between the clouds. My first glimpse of the Himalayas! The top of the peaks are covered with snow, but the snow gives way quickly to clean shaven rock cliffs.
We have been moving every single day this week (Monday to Friday) including our very basic night at the Homestay in Thankor. The hotel last night was warm, had hot water at all hours, a good bed, Western bathroom and good green tea, to boot. Nonetheless, I am looking forward to five nights in Lhasa. With a little luck, I will acclimatize quickly, get some rest, see the sites and be prepared for our final push to Everest.

Sizchuan hot pot

Sizchuan hot pot
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We spent one night in ChengDu at the ShuFeng Hotel. It was a very nice hotel with a contemporary design and all amenities. We went to dinner to have hot pot. ChengDu means "perfect metropolis" and is the capital of Sichuan Province. It has about 12 million people and is very diverse culturally and economically.
They love hot, spicy food. We went to a busy restaurant specializing in hot pot. We sat next to the window at a table with a large flame thrower in the center. We were the only ones who spoke English; our three waitresses spoke Chinese. They had (kind of) an English menu. Our first choice was what kind of stock: pig's feet or carp. We ordered about a dozen items. They brought a large cauldron with the carp. In the center was the mild stock and the outside circle was red and spicy. Our three waitresses brought out tray after tray of food. They fired up the flame thrower and brought the stock to a boil.
They started by putting the meat in. The thinly sliced beef was delicious. They taught me an advanced chopstick technique for getting the meat out of the stock. Passerbys outside stopped to watch the waitresses teach us how to cook and eat hot pot. My first reaction was the hot spicy part was not nearly as hot or spicy as I anticipated. Then we moved on to the mushrooms, bok choy, bean sprouts and lots of vegetables.
Maybe because the boiling stock was becoming more concentrated or maybe because the effect of the pepper was cumulative, but I took off my long-sleeve shirt and sweat was beading up on my forehead. I think the stock had a lot of sesame oil in it and it initially tempered the spiciness. The grand finale was sweet potato linguine. The dough was apparently a magnet for spice because my entire mouth and stomach went on fire. The following morning I could still taste the hot pot. I must say I enjoyed it and would definitely have it again.

Grasslands to Chengdu

We had a long and bumby descent from Thankor to Chengdu. We drove for five hours the first day and another seven hours the next. We descended from about 3400 meters to roughly sea level. We followed a gorge of the Ganka River that was full f construction. They were building dams, power plants, roads and bridges. We spent a short night at a hotel in Gou ErGou. They had hot water. The gorge had steep mountain walls. The river and surrounding mountain walls are so tornup, I think it will take at least twenty years for nature to begin to restore the area. I hope they have a plan for restoring the habitat.

Homestay -- Flying Momos

hostess adding dry yak dung to fire
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Thankor is small. From there we drive west out of town. Our bus is almost full. The road is rough and very bumpy. We cross streams, pass dwellings of river rock surrounded by walls made of sod. We are on the plains. Distant mountain ranges with snow-capped peaks surround us. Yaks are everywhere. They are eating grass and walking around. Earlier in the day, I approached a group of yaks to take their photos. Despite their large size and horns, they are timid and run like sheep.
After about half an hour, our bus bumbed off the road twoard a dwelling. Our hostess greets us. She is in traditional Tibetan garb. Her black hair is braided. Her cheeks are rosy. Her straight, white teeth sparkle. She has a skirt on with her jacket rolled up and tied around her waist. She has several necklaces, amulets and large earrings.
The guides, monk and teacher/singer all exchange hugs with our hostess. This is the winter house. There are two rooms. A sod wall surrounds the house to break the wind and create a boundary for the animals. Young dogs run up and knip at our feet. Yaks surround us in the distance, mucnching away. Because her two-room house is small, we leave our backpacks on the bus. The drivers will sleep on the bus, so they are secure. We take sleeping bags and water inside.
Because the English teacher needs to return to Thankor village, he will sing while our hostess prepares dinner. His English is good; he plays the Tibetan guitar and the Western six string. His songs are sad. Without being political, he mourns the changes in Tibet while admiring the beauty of the country and its people.
Our hostess shovels dry Yahk dung into the stove. Ite seems like a good fuel, not too smoky, a moderate, coal-like temperature. However, she must replenish frequently, maybe every 15 minutes.
She has already prepared momos, both Yak and vegetable. She boils them in a deep pan. Then she stir-frys vegetables in an enormous wok. She adds oil and spices and salt. She adds water and while it is heating to a boil, she prepares the noodles. She flattens the dough and then takes long strings of it and stretches them using her fingers to cut them in more slender strings. Then she rapidly plucks off pieces of noodle about 1 inch x 1 inch and puts them in the pot. The menu is identical to our lunch at the restaurant. Momos, noodles, yak, vegetables -- typical evryday food.
Her dishes are better than the restaurants. Her noodle stew is more flavorful and not quite as salty. Having just eaten lucnh at two, we are not particularly hungry. The food is filling. We have yak butter tea and sampa. Sampa is yak butter, barley flour and sugar combined.
After dinner, Grandma returns home. she has been herding yaks. When she sees the large plate of momos, she decides her guests are being shy. Initially, she puts the plate in front of each person until he or she takes one. When we say we are full, she becomes more insistent and while laughing throws them across the room. We are all laughing, catching momos and eating them. Nothing like cold, fatty yak dumplings for desert.
We spread our mats and put out our sleeping bags. She provides us with enormous quilt blankets. With the thirteen mats on the floors of the two small rooms, there is little room for a path to the outside. I brush my teeth under the Tibetan stars while watching Yak silhouttes on the horizon and listen to the sound of the animals. During the night, I get up to use the "toilet." I am met by a male yak calf that is practicing head butting manuvers. I shoo him off and he leaves me alone.
We have a good nights sleep; it's warmer than the hotel. In the morning we have tea, bread and warmed-up noodle stew. Then we take photos and we are off in the bus. Grandma climbs up on the roof and waves to us until we are out of sight.

Thankor

hanging out
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We drive four hours from Langmusi to Thankor. We are on the high plains at 3,400 meters. We stop to look at the first bend of the Yellow River.
Thankor has dirt roads. The government has rebuilt the downtown using typical brick buildings with Tibetan-syle facades.
Jam Young is our Tibetan guide. He has traveled with us for several days. He is from Thankor. His brother is a monk in the local monastery. We pick him up on our way.
We stop in a restaurant. There is no menu; the options are momos with yak or vegetables and noodles with yak or vegetables.
Men and women from the village take turns peering in the front window of the restaurant. They have seen Chinese tourists, but never white Westerners. One woman stands in the doorway, neither in nor out. She stares at us one by one. There are dozens of Honda dirt bikes. Men in traditional Tibetan dress ride up and down the street on horses and motorcycles.
We visit the local grammar school and are surrounded by hordes of children. We say Hello in Tibetan. They say, Hello, How are you? Their English teacher has taught them well. Very young boys run up to me, touch my pants leg and run away. The English teacher joins us on the bus; he is a well-known Tibetan singer and will perform for us in the evening. We now have a monk, a singer, a Tibetan guide and two Chinese drivers in addition to the thirteen of us.

Honking Bus

The bus driver honks whenever he passes a vehicle, usually before, during and after. He honks to warn the pedestrians standing in the highway lane, leaning on their dirt bikes and conversing. He honks using several different pitches in a vain attempt to hurry yaks, sheep and horses off the road. He honks at the drivers of oncoming buses and trucks to greet them. He honks as though he were playing a video game; he honks at anything that moves.
He seems a happy and contented driver. Maybe he honks because he enjoys driving a bus full of foreigners into the Tibetan Plains and mountainsides.

Altitude Sickness

Night in Langmusi is miserable. My Beijing cold hangs on. I have insomnia. I drink water incessantly and go the toilet as often.
I lie in bed gasping for air. I breathe in; I breathe out. I cough. And breath again. My head aches. I breathe again.
In. Out.
The air is thin.

Language

We are moving so quickly that it is entirely unrealistic to learn the local languages.

Mandarin:
Hello -- Nie how
Thanks -- Shay shay

Tibetan dialect of grasslands
Hello -- Too-deh-moe
Thanks -- Ta-du-chay

Tibetan dialect of Lhasa
Hello -- Ta-she-da-leh
Thanks -- Tu-jay-chay

We have Nepalese and Hindi to look forward to.

Train to Lhasa

The railway to Lhasa from Beijing was recently opened with considerable fanfare. Many people have an interest in riding it. Tickets are sold by reservation exclusively through Chinese tourism agencies. But tickets are unavailable. Tickets can sometimes be bought at the train station depending upon availability.The government is encouraging Chinese from overpopulated areas to resettle in Lhasa. But the Chinese families are reluctant. They want to visit their families twice a year during the holiday season. The train now gives them an economial way to do that. It is not a tourist train. If it were, prices would go up and seats would not be available to ordinary Chinese.

First Yak Meat

We eat at a Muslim restaurant in Langmusi and I have my first yak meat, a yak burrito. The following day, I have sliced yak on a bowl of noodles and soup. I like the sliced yak; it tastes like buffalo: lean, chewy and somewhat gamey. At breakfast, I have yak yoghurt (actually it's from the female of the yak) which is extremely tart and has some chunks in it like semi-soft cheese. It tastes better with honey. We also eat momos which are steamed dumplings filled with ground yak meat. Some of them are tastier than others. The less tasty ones have lumps of fat and gristle.

Langmusi

From Xiahe, we drive by bus another five hours to Langmusi. We are deep into old Tibet and off the typical tourist path. The main street is dirt. Streams of water flow downhill. There is no boundary between the monastery and the town. The Rain Chen Hotel is cold. Because it is Spring, they don't turn on the heat. Hot water comes on briefly in the evening for a couple of hours. There is plenty of hot water in Thermoses. The fourth floor restaurant has a great view of the surrounding mountains.
There are two monasteries; we visit the southern one, Kirti Gompa. The two monasteries house 1,200 monks. We see a relic of the Lama; he is said to have died in a mummified state. We gawk at this face enshrined behind glass. The current incarnation of this same Lama moved to India and founded Dharamsala.We are the only tourists. Curious senior monks in large yellow hats stare at us. We are lucky not to be among their charges. They carry large staffs with which they are said to beat students who fall behind in their sutras.
The monastery was founded in 1413 by Dacheng Lama Kerti Gompa. There are about one hundred monks focused on academic progress in astrology, medicine, Tibetan language as well as theology. We walk into the mountains above the monastery. We pass the fairy cave. Langmusi means "fairy monastery." Inside the fairy cave is a well-worn and wet stalagmite. It has curative powers. So we rub our heads for our headaches, our chest for shortness of breath and look forward to a quick acclimitization.

Our Group

101_1189
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

There are twelve of us plus our Intrepid tour director. There are three married couples (half our group). There are six men and six women. Dawn and I are the only people from the States. All the others are from the Commonwealth: England, Scotland, Canada, and Australia. We, at over 50, are by far the oldest in the group. The youngest person is 18.
Blair is our Intrepid group leader. He is experienced, knowledgable and responsive. He has guided several groups along the exact same route several times in the past (everyone made it). He wrote a thesis on Buddhism and traveled extensively in Tibet. Our group are an accomplished lot and include physicians, a vetenerian, two Ph.D. statistaticians, jet pilot, Cambridge student, a web architect, editor, etc.
In addition, we are joined by local guides. We are also in a bus for several days to get to the rural areas; there are two Chinese drivers.

Why Terracota Warriors?

Terracota Warriors
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

Emperor "Chin" (Qin Shhi Huangdi, 259-210 B.C.) believed, as his counterparts believed, that upon death his soul would go underground and be alive underground. He wanted to take it all with him. The statues are exact replicas of his soldiers. His generals, officers and men would protect him in death as well as in life. Others were less fortunate. To keep the site location secret, all the workers were slain. Additionally, upon his death, his 3,000 concubines were slain and buried with him.

Sky Burials

We are asked to avoid Sky Burial sites while hiking in the mountains. Upon death, the body is cut into pieces and placed in high mountain areas. The buzzards and other large birds take the flsh to the sky.

Xiahe

Labrang, Yellow Hat monks
Originally uploaded by patrickdowd.

We arrived by train to Lanzhou and took a bus for eight hours to Xiahe. Along the way we passed a marker showing the former border with old Tibet. Today within China, there is a Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR) which includes Lhasa and the Himalyan mountains and western Tibet. But the old Tibet was much larger. Today the Tibetan Plains lie within Sichuan and Gansu provinces.
At 2,900 meters above sea level, the air here is thin. The Tibetan women grab two of our packs at a time and run up the stairs while we huff and puff all the way. We are at altitude and many of us suffer from headache, fatigue, breathlessness and dizziness. We drink a minimum of three liters of water per day.
We visit the Labrang Monastery first built in 1709. At its height 4,000 monks lived here. Labrang is one of six Gelukpa (Yellow Hat) Sect monasteries and the largest and most important outside of Lhasa. Today there are 2,000 monks and the head monk ranks third in importance behind the Dali Lama and Panchen Lama. He is the Jiemuyang.
In addition to visiting the various temples and meditation halls and admiring the many Buddhas including the mammoth statue of Sakimonia, I sat in the monastery square by myself on a stone in the shade of some upright wooden timbers. Local peple came and sat beside me and said hello. Groups of monks with shaved heads and maroon and yellow robes stared at me as they walked by.

Chinese Vitality

The history of China is encapsulated in Xi'an. Emperors from as early as 259 B.C. built cities here. No less than 12 imperial dynasties followed. Each successive emperor built upon his forefathers. But typically, not as an addition. They tore down the old and built the new.
This tradition continues in modern China. Under Mao TseTung, the official buildings in front of the Forbidden City in Beijing were all torn down to create Tian Amen Square. Additionally the city wall was demolished to open the city up. Everywhere in Beijing today, the old neighborhoods, the Huotongs, are being demolished and replaced with tightly packed, efficient high rise apartment buildings. Reportedly, the residents miss their old homes for a while but appreciate indoor plumbing.
On the Tibertan plateau, nomads traditionally have a winter home and a summer home. The summer homes are in the mountains. The nomads move their yak herds to higher pastures in Spring and live in the Black Tent ( a tent built from the skin of the dark colored yak). The government is replacing the winter homes. They have built brick row homes into kind of a village and want the nomads to live their. They have communal toilets.
In the valley of the Banbe River that flows into Chengdu, the government is totally overhauling the entire valley. Everywhere mining and construction heavy equipment machinery line the banks and bluffs of the gorge. In certain areas, the entire mountainside on both sides of the river are being covered with rocks and rip rap. Huge cranes are digging gravel out of the river to create a deep center course. Further downstream, no less that a half-dozen locks and hydroelectric stations are under construction.
Reportedly 100 hydroelectric dams are now under consturction. The largest is the Three Gorges Dam which displace 1.1 million people. The reservoir is 60% full and will take eight years to fill. The people that built the Great Wall are now totally rebuilding their country.

Chinese Breakfast Buffet, Lanzhou

After our train ride we went to a breakfast buffet. Cost, 10 yuan. It included tea. Foods: dumplings of meat and vegetable, pasta, hard-boiled eggs, a variety of breads and pastries, pickled vegetables (mushrooms, beets and other unknown), fish pate (?), soups of chicken egg drop and rice mush and a variety of other unknown items. The pickled beets(?) were long , slender, purple and very crunchy. There was some kind of pickled white root in a spicy hot slimy red sauce that I did not like.

Mao's Underground Tunnel

One day while we were walking around the neighboorhoods in Bejing, a man in camoflague pants said, "Mao's Underground Tunnel." We had just gotten rid of a rickshaw driver wnating to give us a ride and a man selling fake Rolex watches, so it took a moment to sink in. The entrance looked like any other building on the street. We paid our admission and our personal guide introduced himself. We descended several flights of stairs to a dirt tunnel. A display containing a soldier's uniform was dimly lit. Our guide requested we not take photos because this was military property. We proceeded to follow a maze of tunnels. They were about eight feet tall and eight feet wide. There was a lot of moisture. In places there were boards and mats to get over the puddles. A single electrical cord ran the length of the ceiling with a small voltage bulb every 100 feet or so.
Occasionally our guide would point out barricaded doors and say where they led to. One went to the Summer Palace. We were somewhere southeast of Tinaamen Square; that's a forty minute cab ride. Our guide explained tht Mao ordered the tunnels built during the time of conflict with the U.S.S.R. The tunnels were designed to hold 300,000 people. Our guide said they had never been used and conceded that because of the dampness, many people would have gotten sick and probably died in the tunnels.
At the end of our tour, we entered a large underground command center. Now it is a silk factory. They showed us two types of silk worms and had us test the strength of raw silk. We joined a team of ladies stretching silk on a 4x6 foot frame. And, yes, they had silk products for sale. We bought chop sticks in silk envelopes.
We entered the daylight and looked behind us. No sign of a tunnel. The huotongs or neighborhoods are a maze of streets, alleys and dead ends. These were reportedly designed for urban guerilla warfare.