Traveling anywhere should be an adventure: a thrilling, challenging journey into the unknown - traveling to Tibet was no exception. In the Christmas of 2006, my Dad and I decided to go on a sight-seeing trip to Tibet; a sort of father-daughter bonding thing (awww...). Our trip was fraught with troubles, but we also had some moments of pure luck and wonder. It really was an unforgettable experience.
Our trip started off smoothly; we joined a Chinese tour group in Guangzhou and took the few hours' flight to Cheng Du, the capital city of South-Western China's Si Chuan province. We spent the night wandering along Cheng Du's famous Pedestrian Street, a boulevard full of food stalls and shops. A word of warning though, Si Chuan people like their food HOT, and by that I mean really, really, unbearably spicy! Dad loved the food there, but me... well, I settled for a bowl of two-minute noodles for dinner.
The next morning we got up early in time to catch one of only two flights that leave for Lhasa (capital of Tibet) each day. However, at the airport our travel plans hit a major roadblock: Chinese bureaucracy. Dad and I are New Zealand citizens, not "legally" Chinese (still a hard fact for Dad to swallow since he was born and raised in China), and so we weren't "legally" allowed into Tibet like the other tourists in our group. The travel agency had already told us this and we had paid them a whole lot of extra money to sort out visas for us. We thought there shouldn't be a problem. But, according to the lady at the check-in counter, visas were not enough; we needed an "invitation letter" from someone in Tibet. This would apparently 'prove' that we were just innocent tourists, not terrorists or anything of the sort.
While Dad was arguing away with the lady, our flight took off and I was ready to throw a major tantrum. For several hours, we sat at the airport desperate to sort out some way to continue our trip: we called the travel agency in Guangzhou, but they couldn't do anything to help. We then called the agency in Lhasa, but they weren't open. Just as the final boarding call was being announced, Dad tried one last time to get on the flight. This time we went to a different check-in counter, showed our passports and visas, and unbelievably, the lady there let us straight through! Shocking... That was the extent of their border control security: if you can't get through one check-in counter, try your luck at the next one?
At last, we were finally on a plane and on our way to Tibet. My anger at the airport quickly subsided and turned to fascination and awe as we flew over huge, beautiful snow-capped mountain ranges. It was so rugged and wild I couldn't believe people actually lived up there. And yet, when we got to Lhasa Airport, I discovered it was surprisingly modern and very busy. I eagerly ran outside and breathed in the fresh mountain air. Uh, what air? At 3500m above sea level, there is a very noticeable lack of oxygen in the air. I soon felt the disorientating effects of altitude sickness: dizziness, tightness in the chest, the feeling that I couldn't breathe!
By the time Dad and I arrived at the hotel, we were both struggling to breath and in dire need of rest and medicine. After a few hours of sleep, I was ready for dinner and to explore the city. Unfortunately, Dad's condition had gotten worse - he was seriously sick and didn't even have the energy to get up. Panicked, I sought help from the hotel's receptionist and fellow tourists. It really was incredibly good luck that many people there could speak English (otherwise I had to communicate through a troublesome Chinese dictionary...), and even more surprising, the group of tourists we were travelling with consisted of a group of doctors taking their annual holiday leave together. Like I said, we were very lucky!
With the help of the doctors and some very powerful anti-altitude sickness pills, Dad was feeling much better the next day. Just as well, because it was a very busy day touring around Lhasa. First up was a visit to the amazing Potala Palace, the centuries old abode of the Dalai Lama. When the current (14th) Dalai Lama fled to Dharamsala, India in 1959, the Chinese government turned Potala Palace into a museum and opened it to the public. We climbed the many, many stairs to the main palace and were taken on a guided tour of Buddhist shrines, large gathering halls, and even the former sleeping quarters of past Dalai Lamas. Even for non-religious foreigners like me, it was incredible. I could feel the harmonious calm and spiritual connectedness of this beautiful palace. However, what was most spectacular was the view from the balconies: hundreds upon hundreds of devout pilgrims were prostrating and worshiping in front of the Palace. I realised then that the Potala Palace itself is a great shrine dedicated to Buddha and the Dalai Lama. In awe of the spirituality of these pilgrims, many of whom walk for months to visit Lhasa, I suddenly felt very small and out of place. Yet, the warmth with which we were greeted by the monks made me feel welcome and taught me well the ideas of harmony, acceptance and caring that is at the heart of Buddhism. The Potala Palace truly is one of the most amazing places I have ever been and I doubt there are many places in the world that can compare.
After the Palace, the tour bus took us to a nearby market where we did some souvenir shopping and tried some real Tibetan cuisine. Tibetan jewellery and Potala Palace memorabilia were pretty and not too expensive (especially since you can haggle the prices way down!), but I soon discovered that Tibetan cuisine really isn't for me. Dried yak meat is a common Tibetan snack, but it is quite tough to eat and tastes a little strange to the foreign palate. Also, the fact that you can see drying yak meat being hung out in the open (to make the most of the bright Tibetan sunshine) is rather unappetizing. That night, the tour guide took the more adventurous tourists to a local night club, and I went along even though I was underage (lucky they don't check for ID!). It was a really fun night: a few sips of Tibetan beer, a hilarious karaoke competition, ethnic dancing performances and dancing with the locals. Also, more of that dried yak meat...
Our second day in Tibet, the tour bus took us out of Lhasa and into the mountain ranges. We stopped near a serene, blue-green lake which was very large and had an island in the middle. The isolated and natural scenery actually reminded me a lot of the lakes in Queenstown, New Zealand. We were having a picnic lunch there on the island, but I soon lost my appetite when the tour guide told me the history of the lake. In the past, villagers had a tradition of placing dead bodies into the lake and letting them be eaten by fish and birds; this was not only practical (because the ground is frozen solid in the winter months), but also important to the Buddhist belief of life as a cycle of regeneration. It sent a shudder down my spine thinking of the many corpses that might be lying at the bottom of the lake. But I must say, it was indeed a very beautiful and peaceful place to rest.
Another amazing thing I discovered on the island is that it was inhabited by an old couple who kept a domesticated wolf as a pet! At first I thought it was a dog (it resembled a small grey husky but with shorter hair) and after several minutes of patting her, I was determined to ask Dad to buy me one for Christmas. Only then was I told that this was no ordinary dog; I had actually befriended a wolf. For the second time in as many days, I was in absolute awe. She was so gentle and friendly, I was sad to have to leaver her so soon. But, as Dad pointed out several times, you really can not take someone else's domesticated wolf back to New Zealand (or anywhere else in the world!) to keep as your own. So not fair...
After lunch, we drove further up the mountain until we reached our destination: a small monument on the mountain marking the altitude as 5800m above sea level. Again, the lack of air made me feel dizzy and lightheaded, but that didn't take away from the gorgeous landscape around us. Majestic snow-capped mountains glimmered in the mid day sun; everything was quiet and still but for colourful wishing flags fluttering above the monument. It is an old custom that if you write your prayers and wishes onto a flag and tie it onto the ropes so they fly high above your head, your wish will come true. Among wishing for my family's good health and getting good grades at school, I also wished for a pet wolf, but that wish has yet to come true...
Foreigners can not stay long up in the mountains without an oxygen mask so we soon drove back down the mountain to spend the night at a small town only 3000m above sea level. It's still pretty high up, but there is still a lot more oxygen there than at 5800m! When travelling at high altitudes, it is a very good idea to spend some time at a lower seal level to recuperate your strength and let you get a much needed breath of fresh air into your lungs.
The next day it was back on the tour bus for the day's ride back to Lhasa. Along the way, we stopped at an over-priced souvenir store selling so-called Tibetan "treasures" like jewels, crafts, spices and herbal medicines. My wise and well-travelled grandmother had told me about this trap for foreigners: the tour guide gets a nice cut of the profit made at these stores, so they will basically refuse to drive the bus until everyone has spent a sufficient amount of money. So, if you don't want to be cheated out of far too much money, the best thing to do is be absolutely adamant that you don't want to go into the store in the first place. Despite my grandmother's advice, I was still tempted to go in and have a look ("Dad, just a look!")... Foolishly, the shop assistant pestered me so much that I ended up paying a few hundred ren men bi (Chinese dollars) for a bag of saffron spice before I left.
In no time at all we were back in Lhasa and had a farewell dinner at the local restaurant. Next morning, we were up nice and early again to catch the flight out of Lhasa and back to Guangzhou via Si Chuan. Perfect timing too: we arrived back at my grandparents' house just in time for Christmas Eve dinner.
Even now, I wonder at how peaceful Tibet appeared. I already knew Tibet had been struggling for its independence for many years. However, at that time at least, there had been little military presence visible in Lhasa. I had not seen any hint of the political unrest that was undoubtedly brewing below the surface (my trip was around 18 months before the protests leading up to the Beijing Olympic Games). Then again, Dad and I were on a Chinese-organised tour so I regret that the tour guide probably only showed us what we were meant to see, not the harsh truths that can be gathered from independently discovering Tibet.
I did not set out to write so much on my little adventure to Tibet but somehow I've ended up pouring pretty much every detail into this travel diary (and honestly, all of it was true!). But all of my words would do Tibet little justice; the best thing I could say is that you must go and see it all for yourself!