Air, air, give me some air! Lhasa, at 11,995 feet (not counting the coming climb to Portola Palace), has a third less oxygen than at sea level. We are taking a generic form of Diamox to reduce the effect of the altitude and we even passed on our usual evening libation. Still, that first night we wondered if we would make it to our hotel room, which was a healthy (or unhealthy) walk from the elevator. There were seventy rooms per floor and our suite was near one end, with the elevators near the other. We even stopped to rest on a convenient couch half way to our room.
A dozen years ago we were at a similar altitude for a few days in Cusco, Peru (visiting Machu Picchu) but, well, we were a dozen years younger then.
China invaded and took control of Tibet in 1950 under the logical (to imperialist minds) concept that the Mongols once collected tribute from Tibet and the Chinese now consider the Mongol period of control of China as just another Chinese dynasty, the Yuan dynasty. Ergo China has rights to Tibet. In fact, our guide suggested “Inner Mongolia”, now part of China has more claim to Mongolian heritage, than does “Outer” Mongolia, now the independent country of Mongolia, given that country’s subservience to the USSR until 1990. From my all too superficial visits to the two regions, my impression is that Mongolia and Tibet are moving (or being moved) in opposite directions. Mongolia was slow to shed its Communist past but is doing so steadily, as seen by the effort to teach in school the writing of the Mongolian language in its original Indo-European script, close in many ways to Tibetan writing (both influenced by India). In Tibet, meanwhile, at least in Lhasa, Mandarin is fast superseding Tibetan. Most signage has large Mandarin script with the Tibetan in smaller script, or, as in traffic signage, is entirely in Mandarin. The People’s Republic of China flag flies over even the Buddhist temples.
I hope talking about the weather is not too boring, but our lucky streak continues. Even here in Tibet, at the end of September, 45 degrees feels like 65 and the temperature rises fast with the sun. Many in our tour group have never abandoned short sleeved shirts and even shorts. (I didn’t bring a single pair.) Anticipating cool and even cold weather in such places as Tibet and the Gobi desert, I packed a jacket, a Patagonia, a sweater and a rain shell. The Patagonia and rain shell go unused. I wore the sweater twice, only to strip it off mid-morning. The one time so far I have started off with a jacket I ended up tying it around my waste. We have Xian and Beijing to go with this trip, so I hope I have not jinxed the trend.
Warning. This is a long blog. Our days and evenings were packed with sights and activities. Fortunately, my long suffering readers, much of it will be pictures.
We had hoped to see a yak in Tibet, given its important in Tibetan culture. We never saw one except perhaps from a great distance while traveling from the airport to Lhasa, an hour’s ride. The local mountains also blocked any view of the snow-capped ones that dominate the country. This trip could have used an extra day for a trip into the countryside, perhaps to visit a Tibetan village, but perhaps it is politics and China’s security concerns for Tibet that preclude this option.
The major goal when visiting Lhasa, or at least our goal, was to visit Portola Palace, home (once) of the Dalia Lama and king of Tibet. The Chinese government likes to advertise that there are two senior lamas of equal religious “rank” (the Dalia Lama and the Panchen Lama), but only the Dalia Lama was the ruling king. The Panchen Lama is obedient to his Chinese overseers, perhaps not a bad move given the original reincarnated 11th Panchen Lama conveniently disappeared at age six after a visit from Chinese authorities. Read the recent Wall street Journal article on the Tibetan Buddhist who spent ten years before escaping to India to learn how the Chinese government treats at least some of the Tibetans who refuse to renounce their religion.
Lhasa
Lhasa is a neat, clean, attractive city, without the skyscrapers that dominate the other cities in China we have visited. Motorbikes continue to rule the streets, although automobiles still crowd the roadways.
The next morning started a full day. The first was a visit to the Jokhang Temple, 1,300 years old. It dominates Lhasa’s Barkhor Sauare, where pilgrims make reverent clockwise circuits around the temple, some on their hands and knees.
The marital status of women was obvious. Wearing of an apron over the dress meant the woman was married. If the apron was of one color, this meant the woman was a widow. There is no similar distinction for men.
Left: My shortcut led into ever more narrow and unpopulated alleys until I reached a dead end. So much for the shortcut. Right: Frances patiently waited for my return.
Then it was off to visit the Tsamkhung Nunnery, but not before passing through market stalls and shops.
The day was not done. We were next treated to a dinner and show.
A bit of an aside on yaks. The term yak, for Tibetans, means the male yak only, hence “yak milk” and “yak butter” is a bit impossible. (Not yak meat, though, a Tibetan staple.) Female yaks are called a dri.
When we returned to the hotel, we traipsed up to the hotel’s patio to get an evening view of the next day’s objective, Portola Palace.
We slept reasonably well that second night, but not deeply, often waking for a while, along with the usual treks to the bathroom). This, I presume, was a normal high altitude symptom.
Portola Palace
Portola Palace was first built in the seventh century and was the home of the Dalia Lamas until 1959, when the 14th Dalia Lama abdicated his throne and fled to India, along with most of the Royal Family. (With them went the majority of Lhasa Apsos, bred as palace guard dogs. They are now rare in Tibet.)
There are over 1000 rooms and 10,000 side chapels and shrines in the palace, with temples devoted to past Dalia Llamas (including most of their tombs, normally a non-Buddhist disposition of bodies), to Buddhist saints, and to other religious activities, and with all the offices, rooms, dormitories and the like normally associated with a governing monarch’s palace. Our visit viewed a small fraction of the rooms, obviously.
The climb to the palace began mid-morning amidst a considerable crowd. Much of the initial climb is outside or on the palace walls, a combination of inclined stretches and steps. At about the 60% point in the climb was a decision point. To attempt the final climb up some very narrow steps and stairs, you had to commit to complete the whole trip. No turning around thanks to the narrowness of the passageways, and the exit was on the opposite side of the castle. Unfortunately, no photos were allowed from this point until the interior of the palace was exited.
The altitude of the Portola Palace at the top level (for visitors) is 12,306 feet. (Actually, it’s 12,300, but I’m was breathing or, more accurately, panting a few feet higher.
I was pleased with how I did, given my less than grade A heart, although I was dead tired during the afternoon. Frances had a really tough time with the climb but hung in there all the way up and back down. She did pass on the afternoon’s monastery visit when we learned it included a long trek up an inclined road to get to the core of the monastery.
Sera Monastery
Left: A Dorm door. Right: A newly renovated dormitory.
We have now left Tibet, a truly unique country and unique experience.
The flight from Lhasa to Xian a close-pack affair, on an airbus 319 with negative knee room (i.e. seat pitch minus thigh length). The woman in front of me was a bouncer, and kept jamming my knee. I’m guessing she was objecting to my knees in her back by bouncing against her seat back. Lose lose.
My summary of our visit to Tibet? An ‘A’ for exotic, for sure. It’s one of the reasons (the other being Mongolia) for selecting this Viking land-cruise combination. Making it to the top of Portola Palace was especially satisfying. I’m sure as I age that the altitude of the highest point we reached will grow. This whole trip has created memories of experiences to last a lifetime. Of course, at our age, this isn’t saying as much as it used to. 😊
Our hotel, the Shangri-La, is the newest luxury hotel in Lhasa and overall excellent. Its food (all buffet style) was mediocre compared to our other stops in China and many of the dining chairs had collapsed cushions. Maybe too many of us American-sized patrons? Often I opted for the Chinese rather than Western offerings. Rooms had oxygen and at least four emergency call buttons for those who couldn’t cope with the altitude. (I’ll insert here a correction from my last (Chendu) post. That fabulous hotel was the St. Regis, not a JW Marriott.)
Our local guide, Gouguo (I think, but pronounced “go-go”) was one of the better ones and worked well with Richard, our guide for the full post-cruise trip. Gougou is her full name. She explained that most Tibetans have but one name and, worse, there are only a handful of the more common ones, including the names for the seven days of the week. As a result, in school, there may be ten students in class with the same name and thus are referred to, as an example, Gougou One , Gougou Two…
Thus ends our adventure into Tibet. It’s off to Xi’an, home to the Terracotta Soldiers.
