The Travelling Life of Silvan Colani
November 2005 - Tibet (cont.)
The sun rises spectacularly all over Tibet, casting long shadows across the barren plains. Today, we’re heading off in our Mitsubishi Pajero towards Gyantse. Our driver, a mainland Chinese migrant from Henan province (in suit and white socks, of course) refuses to let me take the wheel. He has a very weird driving style, which I would characterize as “fifth-or-no-gear-economy-drive”, whereby he tries to gain as much momentum in fifth gear before taking the car out of gear and try to roll as far as possible without stepping on the gas. Strangely, he almost crawls along the straight wide highways out of Lhasa but drives at breakneck speed through the dusty non-paved roads in the mountains.
I try to take in the stunning landscape to take my mind off the erratic drive. An hour outside Lhasa the road starts to climb from about 3600m up the Kamba-la (Kamba pass) on a newly paved road (another gift to the 40th anniversary of “liberation”). The guide book puts the top of the pass at 4794m, while my altimeter reads 4700m and the road sign says 4990m. Whatever the correct reading, it is higher than the highest point in Switzerland (Dufourspitze, 4634m) and the view is breathtaking – not only because of the altitude. Beyond the pass lies the turquoise Yamdrok-tso (Yamdrok lake), one of the four holy lakes in Tibet. On the horizon, the 7191m peak of Mt. Nojin Kangtsang pierces into the cobalt blue sky.
Over the top, the driver puts the car in fifth gear and races it downhill and along the lake. After lunch in a non-descript town we head up another pass (Karo-la, 5045m) from where we get a close-up view of the Nojin-Kangtsang glacier (right).
By now the ‘road’ is nothing but a dirt track and luckily there isn’t much traffic aside from the occasional horse-drawn cart. From up on the next pass (Simu-la, 4330m) we get an excellent view onto another turquoise reservoir. From here it’s all the way down to Gyantse (3950m) whose 14th century fort is visible from afar. We are the only guests to check into the huge but eerily empty communist-style Gyantse Hotel. At least we have enough hot water to ourselves.
After a somewhat restless night due to the altitude and strange noises in the corridor we paid a visit to the local monastery and the Gyantse Kumbum, a magnificent nine-tiered chorten (stupa), both built in the 14th century. From the top of the Kumbum you can gaze across the Tibetan old town of Gyantse, lying in the shadows of the very impressive Gyantse tzong (fort).
From Gyantse it’s a relatively short drive on a straight and well-paved road to Shigatse, Tibet’s second-largest city. The scenery is one of never-ending chocolate hills. 20 kms before Shigatse we turn off the main road and head down a dirt, water and ice track to Shalu Monastery, dating back to the 11th century. Although we had by now already seen a fair share of monasteries, each one had its special character and I have not yet grown tired of the sweet smell of yak butter lamps, the gentle spinning of prayer wheels and the constant flow of monks and pilgrims offering small amounts of money to the various gods and deities. Some monasteries are stacked to the ceiling with age-old prayer books and walking below these book shelves is supposed to increase your wisdom – if you manage to squeeze between the narrow beams!
We arrived in Shigatse by lunch but unfortunately Mei was not feeling too well – possibly because of a combination of altitude and a bad stomach. After all, we had by now spent close to four days at around 4000m (coming straight from sea level). We took the afternoon off to rest in the hotel and watch come CCTV propaganda.
Next morning, Mei was not feeling much better and we decided to change our program. Instead of moving on into the more remote regions closer to Mt. Everest we decided to stay in Shigatse for another day, giving Mei’s stomach more time to settle in.
With Mei in bed and more CCTV9 on the telly, I went to discover Shigatse’s main attraction – the Tashilhunpo monastery, seat of the Panchen Lama. The Panchen Lama ranks second only to the Dalai Lama, although historically there have been frequent squabbles between the Panchen Lamas in Shigatse and the Dalai Lamas in Lhasa. The Panchen Lama has also been a frequent pawn in the Chinese design for control over Tibet. The 10th Panchen Lama – who later in life was immensely popular because he spoke up for he people of Tibet and whose picture you see in many houses around Shigatse – died in 1989 and was rumored to be poised by the Chinese. In May 1995 the Dalai Lama identified a six-year old boy as the reincarnated 11th Panchen Lama, who was promptly abducted by the Chinese government and has not been seen since. Instead, the Chinese ordered the senior lamas of Tahilhunpo to come up with a second choice, the son of a Communist Party member, who now spends most of his time in Beijing. (For more on the subject, visit www.tibet.org).
These sad politics aside, Tashilhunpo is a magnificent, active monastery with some 400 resident monks. Built in 1447 by the first Dalai Lama it has various temples and chapels that house, among others, the remains of the 4th and 10th Panchen Lama as well as one large tomb dedicated to the 5th to 9th, since the originals were destroyed during the Cultural Revolution (another sad legacy of Chinese “liberation”).
One of the small side halls of the monastery was particularly atmospheric: pilgrims were lining up to hand a note with names of sick or deceased relatives to a monk, who would then shout out the names of these people. The assembled old monks (some of them looking like Master Yoda of the Star Wars!!!) would then clap their hands acknowledging the names and chant mantras to help these pour souls (“May the Force be with them!”) It was a fantastically intimate and spiritual affair that I could have watched for hours. Having taken the enclosed video from the midst of the monks, one of them shouted “Halo!” (meaning me, of course) and asked to watch the video on my digital camera. You should have seen the delight on the faces of the three monks as they watched themselves on the little screen, forgetting entirely to chant their mantras for the paying pilgrims!
In one of the courtyards outside the monastery I came across another delightful scene that makes the rough traveling in these altitudes worth all the effort. Young monks from the Philosophy College were engaged in a lively debate, whereby they were emphasizing their arguments with a slap on the hand and wrist. It seemed that whoever slapped his hands harder had won the argument, but probably not…
At this point it may be worthwhile pointing out that November/December is actually an excellent time to visit Tibet. Granted it may be somewhat colder and drier than in summer, but there are very few tourists around, allowing you to enjoy the sights in the sole company of the locals and the never-ending flow of pilgrims from around the Tibet and beyond.
Having spent some extra time in Shigatse due to Mei’s rumbly tummy, I must say that most larger Tibetan cities look far too Chinese for my taste. The proliferation of cold ugly Chinese concrete structures is almost as bad as the prevalence of Chinese TV soap operas in every restaurant. In fact, I can only think of two benefits the Chinese have brought to Tibet: good food and decent road (where finished).
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