A TASTE of TIBET

A Taste of Tibet

There is so much discussion of Tibet in the West that it's hard not to be curious and want to see it for yourself. Currently, the only way for non-Chinese to go the region is with a guided tour group, with a cost of two to three times actual travel costs. I am certainly curious to see Lahsa and it would be interesting to see what must be beautiful mountains and countryside, but I don't like the idea of seeing a Tibetan theme park. For travelers in the West, there are plenty of Tibetan towns that are open and with a short detour can be visited no problem. This past week, I've seen several of these towns in the Gansu and Qinghai Provinces. Some travelers have discussed this as a more 'authentic Tibetan experience,' since there are a higher percentage of Tibetans than in much of Tibet, with a less (but frequent) prominent police and government presence.

I'm going to leave all the politics to the side, especially since I'm waiting for a visa at the moment. I'll say only this; the post-colonial dialogue that we often hear in the West, "China bad, Tibet good," is a ridiculous oversimplification of the issue and should be rejected.

The three cities I've been to are all one-street towns of various sizes. The smallest being 3,000, the largest of about 70,000. Two things hit me immediately as I left the bus station in Xiahe. First, you can't but notice the dust, soot, exhaust that chokes you on any main street. It's enough to make one want to buy those little gas masks. At times, I was surprised not to be coughing up a dust clod. Second, the Tibetans are spitting images of the Andeans, same round face, flush checks, big smiles, layered dress, silly cowboy hats, even the scenery is similar. Of course you see monks here, and rather than little alpaca dolls you see tiny yaks,. But the similarities are uncanny and there must be some relation. This observation was shared by a Canadian and American that I spent the next couple of days with. Since the American could speak Mandarin, we had some funny discussions and good times with the Tibetans. Plus she taught me two new terms. ABC- American Born Chinese, and Sea Turtles- Chinese that live abroad but eventually make their way back to China. Funny. The first day we walked down some random street where some water system was being installed. In a short time we were in discussion with ten Tibetans ranging in age from 15 to 30. Much merriment ensued and in no time they were inviting us to their house half an hour away. Their hospitality was great as they offered the little they could, tea and an edible, yet unappetizing paste/bread called tsampa. They really enjoyed our digital cameras and took pleasure not only in looking at past pictures and seeing themselves, but also at trying their hand at photography.

Monkeying Around

Xiahe is home to one of Tibetan Buddhism most important monasteries- Labrang. This monastery and much of the city took part in riots last year. As a result, it is much less active-less monks, than in previous years. Still the monastery gives the town a special feel and you can't help but notice the presence of monks in the city. After poking out heads into various temples we climbed a stupa where we discovered a small basketball court with monks shooting some hoops. They were very excited when we walked onto their dirt court and in no time we were playing a spirited game of four on four. I chuckled when I saw one of them wearing an Iverson jersey and I was pleased to discover that I dominated the game. I think it's been five years since I've touched a basketball, but I was of course a college baller. I believe I was described in the local paper at the time as a raw talent at best. Oh Yeah! Once you start moving the altitude at 3,000 meter causes a burning in your lungs and shortness of breath.

After the game we were invited for lunch- some type of rice slop that tasted kind of like risotto. We took lots of pictures and laughed a lot, it was great. Several of the monks were excited to see my arm hair, delighted to see my hairy legs and went nuts when they discovered hair on my chest. At one point a monk grabbed my pants to sneak a peak at what lies below. He was unsuccessful, but I'll tell you, more hair. I have a rip in one of my pants and a kind monk suggested I make a patch with my leg hair. If I were easily offended, I promptly would have kicked him off the team. Instead, I've penciled him in as the starting two- I like his aggressiveness.

I spent the next week traveling with a Chinese speaking Belgian guy, and a constantly giggling Chinese lady. My favorite line from her- you look like a Bin Laden but cuter. Wow great!? We spent the first couple of days walking around. Langmusi was our favorite hiking spot and after waiting out the weather-it was snowing, something that I am completely unprepared for. We had a nice hike to the neighboring cliffs. The altitude really affected me and when we climbed three hundred meters to our peak of 3700m, I was pooped. After downing many a beer and gobbling up something called a yak burger we slipped under our electric blankets and off into sleep.

Xining was our destination since as a regional capital it was a safe bet to extend our visas. With no direct buses we were forced to stop over at Hezuo. Nothing too exciting here, and after a few days of no hot water we decided to go to a bathhouse. For five bucks we got all the hot water we would need and a massage to boot. It was an odd experience starting with the ample application of vinegar followed by a rubdown with a scouring pad normally used for pans. After scrapping us back, front and in between a balm of salt, random bag A and random bag B was applied. We were then tenderized by being whacked up and down- it really hurt. With the abuse over, we were ready to cook over low heat in the sauna. Our Chinese gal pal was equally indifferent to her massage, suggesting the masseur had more practice using her hands in a different more 'adult' way.

No problem with the visa in Xining and after a couple of uneventful days there, the highlight being learning Chinese drinking games and partying at a local club, I've headed back on my own NW along the Silk Road. Unfortunately, I'm heading the wrong direction (west) and flights back to Beijing are no longer available. This means I'll either have to detour or take a really long train back. Then again, I can always keep going until I hit Khazakstan, I heard about some event called running of the Jew. Nah, I'm excited to finally see Beijing, it's time. But first a couple last days in the wild wild West playing in the desert.