Everest

Driving from Tingri the excitement mounted to slightly silly levels. This was the day we had been waiting for for a very long time indeed and it didn't take long through Tibets windy dusty mountain tracks to finally get our first view of Everest. Through the clouds in the distance, peeping like a coy stripper was the mountian herself, massive, cold and white. It was a brilliant moment, everything was worth it just for that glimpse. Everyone disembarked for that essential twenty minutes of photography and video making.

Getting more and more excited

After that Everest was an ever-present looming giant, always somewhere on the horizon, massive and uncompromising, we got quite used to it after a while. Closer to base camp we stopped at a beautiful, old monastery, the oldest in Tibet where the first buddhist Abbott settled after climbing from Nepal. Amanda and I wanted to walk to base camp from here, then walk on to Everest, but it was about 25 kilometres all the way and our light was fading too fast. We all loaded up one more time in the minibus and arrived at base camp to choose a tent.

Base camp

Accommodation at base camp by the way consists of a small road lined with 'hotels', each nothing more than a big tent and a dung fire. Inside we are insulated with layers of felt and canvas on the walls and ceiling, round the outside are beds used as seating in the day. It was actually really cosy. We opted to pass by the 'Hotel California'.

MARMOT!

While the army of Chinese visitors hired horse and carts to drive them the three or four kilometres to the base camp proper the four of us chose to walk. Ahead Everest rose through the clouds, sadly obscured for the most part save when the wind blew away a whispy bit and we'd get a brief, tantalising glimpse of the mountain. I'm glad we did walk though, Amanda spotted a little marmott chilling out on a rock and it's always fun to race the Chinese along a dirt road.

The rules

At the real base camp we were confronted by Chinese soldiers and loads of red tape, passport flashing and rules and regulations. Apparantly a group of Americans had been here a few weeks before with video cameras and a huge 'Free Tibet' banner. The authorities were not best pleased, so now there are soldiers all over the place and tourists can only go as far as the stream a few hundred yards on (which Amanda, being Amanda naturally had to have a paddle half way accross as a two fingured gesture to the 'man'). We stacked our little stones on a cairn, thoroughly admired the nuts Chinese posing in sub-zero temperatures with no tops on, and settled down to stare in awe at the mighty Everest.

The foot of the mountain...nearly!

Obviously we only barely managed to make it back to the tent before frostbite set in. I'm fairly sure the Chinese are still there, frozen in place. We did manage to spot a herd of blue deer on the way back which warmed our hearts long enough to safely reach the heat of our dung fire.

Several momos and a surprisingly comfy sleep later we were up well before sunrise to catch the first light of day on the mountain. Stepping outside was utterly, utterly freezing, this was maybe the coldest morning I've ever faced (outside Bolivia anyway). But by the number of stars in the sky we were in for a cloudless day and an unprecedented view.

Sunrise

The morning didn't let us down, not a cloud in sight, a still pool to catch reflections of the mountain in and Everest, completely mind-boggling in the distance. It really is a beautiful place up there on the rooftop of the world, sparce and barren, very rocky and sharp, cold and inhospitable but full of life and vitality if you look hard enough. We got back to camp just in time to see the men lining up waiting to be given work by the Chinese, mostly litter picking. The car the'd come in still had a warm bonnet, which Amanda took full advantage of.

Our guide with the secret knowledge

It didn't take us long to have some breakfast, the day was too clear to waste time indoors. Taking the lovely girl from our tent along as a guide we went off to explore the highest monastery in the world. We'd been there the previous day but found it uninhabited and half ruined. Aparantly there was a part still used by a monk with a sacred cave underneath. We just couldn't find it by ourselves. The monk was lovely. He made us a tea and opened up the trap door for us all to have a shimmy down for a better look. The grotto (surprisingly warm!) had a few old statues in, incense and prayer flags, it was a really nice little hidey hole for a monk to sit in and chill out. I prefered the views from the top though. Everest is always there, looming.

Everest 'shops'

With only a short time left Amanda ran round the camp stalls looking for something she just had to have (anything really) and we all loaded up the car. Today would see us all the way to the Nepalese border for the night, then tomorrow we would have to say goodbye to Tibet forever. Yael would head back to Lhasa with the guide and the three of us would go on to Kathmandu. We finally had to turn our backs on the mighty Everest and set off to the North. But it was ok, you really don't need long up there, we'd done what we came to do, laid our stone at the foot of the mountain and now it was time to go, there are other mountains to see, though none as big or imposing.

Excellent!

Further into Tibet.

Introduction to the mask dance

The sacred masks themselves

The famous debating monks

No I don't have any pens!

Practising their English

Traditional Tibetan houses

Brilliant monastery designs

Our Five day jeep tour from Tibet to Nepal...via Everest!

Feeling to cold on the edge of the abyss

Tess and Yeal walking like Tibetans

The prayer wheels

At the eye of the monastery

Please amanda no more tat!

A yellow hat Buddist

The Potala Palace, home of the Dali Lama.

The Potala Palace, an iconic symbol of Tibet, former home of the Dali Lamas for hundreds of years, now an empty museum to a past most Tibetans yearn for a return of. The current Dali Lama lived here until 1959 when he was forced to flee to Daramsala in India following a failed uprising and the resulting massacre. His legacy lives on.

The father of Lhasa

We wandered through his old bedroom (complete with huge gold leaf pictures of previous incarnations of the Buddha and wooden statues). It must be pretty hard to be told you're a living God and whisked off to learn stuff at a young age. The living space doesn't make it easy to forget. The palace is phenomenal, thirteen stories, more than a thousand rooms and ten thousand shrines. Buddhist imagery is plastered on every flat surface, statues easily outnumber the people many many times over. Its sumptuous, gloriously rich and ultimately tragic, an architectural testament to the effect Chinese rule has had on Tibetan life. It stands above the City like a constant reminder of what once was, the final resting place of the soul of Tibet.

Are we really going to be allowed to see their bedrooms and tombs?

Inside we are guided gently by roped off areas and signs through what we are allowed to see. The highlight certainly for Amanda being the tombs of seven or eight of the previous Dali Lamas. These are big shrines of gold and silver crusted with jewels, precious coral, gems and religious symbols. Each one must be worth millions but more to the point the men are buried in them, a finger tip away. We stagger open mouthed through rooms dominated by fourty foot high statues cursing the guards who wait everywhere to make sure you don't take any pictures. In fact we spend so long dragging our heels, determined not to move on till we'd absorbed, that the guards started collecting behind us, locking each door as we walked through. Apparantly it was closing time and we were the last people inside.

Eventually we emerged into the fading light. As usual it was a clear day with a roasting sunset. A quick stop at the supermarket for tour supplies and we arrived back at the hotel for Yael's Jewish New Year celebrations. Shalom all round.

Being marked

Later that night I attended my much anticipated appointment with the only tattoo artist in Tibet. He stuck needles in my arm till well after 2am on the morning we were supposed to leave for Everest and Nepal. With a slight hangover and some very painful new art the next morning we loaded up our chariot for the next few days (a nice old Toyota Landcruiser) and left Lhasa behind.

I am now a pilgrim without the religious connotation!

Playing at pilgrims in the Jokang and Drepung.

It was great to be back in Lhasa after the head crunching altitude of Lake Namso. Our new digs, suited us just fine, that perfect mix of cheap, dingy and cheap. On the main street we were a couple of doors away from Yael and Tessa, our new best buddies and company on the tour we were soon to embark upon through the South of Tibet, round Everest and into Nepal. On top of all that excitement who else but Annette had arrived in town (to stay in the even cheaper, dingier and cheaper place down the road). We wandered down to sample various momo's and yak buttered tea with her later that night. In about ten minutes she'd got her head together with Amanda and our few days remaining in Lhasa were organised.

Howdy Pilgrim

So it was, early in the morning we were stood at end of a long queue to the busy office that sells what very limited tickets there are to the Potala Palace (or the potato Palace to those in the know)the revered home of the Dali Lhama. Other tourists were there of course, most politely waiting their turn with patience. More noticably however were the large number of Chinese agents storming through to the front stuffing wads of notes into the face of the poor salesmen. They were after fourty or so tickets each, aparantly for bus loads of tours that were to arrive the next day. They were so rough that the Palace guards resorted to organising a tourist only queue and a Chinese only queue to let them fight it out between themselves. It was a bit disconcerting though, we were quite far back and there are only a finite number of tickets available for each day (on sale the day before). We almost didn't get in at all.

The long windy lanes of Drepung monastery

Time was short, as always when your in a place more interesting than a barrel full of debating champion beauty queen barmaids. There was still a lot more to see than we had hours left in the day so after we finally secured our tickets to the Potato Palace we hopped into the next taxi to pass and high tailed to the Drepung Monastery close to the City. Its name literally means 'rice heap' which I suppose is quite poetic considering that thats what it looks like, a big bunch of whitewashed buildings covering the hillside. It's one of the 'big three' Gelugpa monasteries of Tibet. Before the Chinese buggered everything up it housed as many as 10,000 monks, all meditating and being polite to each other in a very vegetarian buddhist way. Now of course its a shadow of its former glorious self. Much of the buildings are gone, it is no longer a heap, more the dregs at the bottom of the bag. Still great though.

So many prayer wheels

We asked the monk sitting outside whether our entrance money went to the monastery and it upkeep or to the Chinese Government. He told us the monastery but we all knew he was lying. Unfortunately we were caught a few minutes later trying to sneak in and had to pay anyway. I hope at least some of the fee went to the monks.

Still, there were some very interesting sheep wandering the winding lanes, and the monks let us clamber up to the roof of a few of the pagodas for a better look. But it was inside the major temples we caught an incense laden whiff of Drapungs former glory. Golden draperies, yak butter candles and gilded buddhas abound. Some parts of this place have'nt changed for centuries and I hope never will.

Happy Christmas Mum, your very own singing bowl.

I found Mums Christmas prezzie here, a fabulous singing bowl that a nice monk (sitting with a cup of tea nearby) came over and showed me how to properly use. He also explained the markings along its side, the 'om mani padme hon mantra'.

Taking a leisurely half hour to peruse the various stalls outside the monastery (we were the centre of attention being the only ones there having stayed till closing time) we finally found a bus that looked like it was headed in the right direction and sped off towards our hotel.

View of Bharkor square from the roof of the Jokang

Our last day in Lhasa was a busy one indeed. We had some serious stuff to see. First off inside the Jokang, Tibetan Buddhisms spiritual centrepiece, a temple built in the heart of Barkhor Square in 640 AD or so. This is a site of some real holiness. A big solid gold statue of the Buddha was brought here as a dowry by a Chinese princess a long time ago and I wanted to have a peek. Annette was here the day before and said it was so packed she didn't get a look in. Today we went early and managed to avoid the crowds. Everywhere round the Jokang are pilgrims that have travelled from all over the country, mostly on their leather clad bellies for miles and miles from their hometown to walk the cora round the Jokang. This day was no exception, we managed to get in whilst it was fairly empty though, only a few early birds and a tour group, it was very very good.

Frozen on the spot

Inside is what we'd come to expect from a massively spiritual and important buddhist place, colourful thick hangings from the ceiling, smoke from the hundreds of butter candles and incense filled the air, it was dusty, dark and atmospheric, chilled out and quiet. Statues adorned every nook and cranny, pictures of one god or another, monks resting on steps, chanting or meditating all over the place. The big gold Sidharta didn't dissapoint, very big, very expensive, very very gold.

Opulance and glory of the Jokang

We somehow ended up on the roof looking over the square full of the faithful, the interested and the stallholders. Over the rooftops stood the Potala, silent sentry over the whole of the City, no longer occupied by Tibets chief guardian however. More flags and banners flew from up there, gold emblums on staffs, and a curious open air drop toilet, God only knows where that goes to. Unfortunately we couldn't stay long, the afternoon was well upon us by the time we left, Annette was probably already waiting to explore the Potala with us, much as we would have liked to stay for the rest of the week we had to get along.