Last week, two of my lifelong dreams were accomplished: see the pandas in Chengdu, and go to Tibet. Seeing (and holding) the pandas I can recommend to anyone and everyone without reservations. It was one of the most unique experiences in my life, and worth every penny. (Good thing we didn't pay in pennies, though, because we'd have needed a wheelbarrow to transport all of them.)
I'm sure there's an argument to be made against the panda photo opportunity offered by the Chengdu research bases ("Only in China!" I've heard many people say with disdain), but that's not the position I'm going to take. The one-year-old panda I have my arm around in the picture below couldn't have been happier, chomping away on his bamboo and grinning at the camera. The Bifengxia research base offers even more options for the truly panda-crazed, such as a three-minute panda "experience" in which you can suit up in zookeeper coveralls and go into the panda enclosure for playtime, or volunteer opportunities lasting from half a day to a week or more, where you can bathe and feed the pandas (and perform other, less glamorous duties like cleaning out cages). The money the panda base makes from offering these packages to tourists goes toward supporting the base, which was one of the nicest zoo-like animal habitats I have ever seen. Having been to Chinese zoos in the past, I will simply say that I am very impressed with how nice the pandas have it.
I'm sure there's an argument to be made against the panda photo opportunity offered by the Chengdu research bases ("Only in China!" I've heard many people say with disdain), but that's not the position I'm going to take. The one-year-old panda I have my arm around in the picture below couldn't have been happier, chomping away on his bamboo and grinning at the camera. The Bifengxia research base offers even more options for the truly panda-crazed, such as a three-minute panda "experience" in which you can suit up in zookeeper coveralls and go into the panda enclosure for playtime, or volunteer opportunities lasting from half a day to a week or more, where you can bathe and feed the pandas (and perform other, less glamorous duties like cleaning out cages). The money the panda base makes from offering these packages to tourists goes toward supporting the base, which was one of the nicest zoo-like animal habitats I have ever seen. Having been to Chinese zoos in the past, I will simply say that I am very impressed with how nice the pandas have it.
After an incredible two days in Chengdu, Matt and I hopped on a 43-hour train ride all the way to Lhasa. We roughed it a little bit, choosing the "hard sleeper" option, and shared a room with four Chinese people also headed out west. If I could block the memory of the state of the train bathroom by hour 12 (still 31 to go!), I would have almost exclusively good things to say about the experience. The ride was smooth, the landscape was beautiful, and the lengthy duration of the trip gave Matt and I some much needed catch up time (and offered me an excellent opportunity to beat him at a variety of games).
Matt waiting for our train to come in at the Chengdu station:
Matt waiting for our train to come in at the Chengdu station:
I had the bottom bunk, Matt had the top bunk, and we had a middle-aged Chinese man in between us. Let's just say that's never going to happen again... Yikes!
It was hard to capture the landscape accurately from my iPhone as the train passed through open plains, low mountains, rivers, lakes, and eventually lots of snow, but here's one semi-successful Instagram attempt:
The numerous websites and blogs I scoured did their best to scare me about altitude sickness, but Matt and I figured that we were young and healthy enough to make the trek without any serious issues. Sure enough, when we got off the train in Lhasa and were escorted by police to our travel guide, we were happy to be breathing in the fresh (albeit thin) mountain air.
On Barkhor Street during our first evening in Lhasa:
On Barkhor Street during our first evening in Lhasa:
We asked our guide to refrain from taking us to the typical "tourist trap" restaurants in Lhasa and to take us instead to a local place where we could sample something authentic. Thus commenced the three day whirlwind of yak and noodles in various forms and at various locations, some cleaner than others but all equally delicious. Matt has always loved spicy food, and I have developed a penchant for it myself after having spent the last year-plus in the firebelly that is southwestern China. Before leaving Lhasa, we made sure to pick up two large jars of the Lhasa specialty, which has hints of sesame seeds and herbs and smoke and is unlike anything I've ever tasted.
In spite of the admonitions of bloggers everywhere to "take it slow" during the first few days in Tibet, Matt and I began our tour of Lhasa bright and early on Wednesday morning and didn't stop until we got on the plane three days later. Taking it easy is fine if you have a week or ten days to take it all in, but our small window of opportunity afforded us no such luxury.
Wednesday provided us with the most intensive introduction into Tibetan Buddhism that either of us could ever have imagined. First we went to Jokhang temple, located smack in the middle of the busiest street in Lhasa and teeming with pilgrims, then to Drepung monastery, and then to Sera monastery. I have been to monasteries and temples in China before, but nothing prepared me for the intricate paintings on the walls, the rooms upon rooms of golden Buddha shrines, or the scent of yak butter and incense that filled our nostrils as we tiptoed around red-robed monks chanting their unintelligible mantras.
Our Tibetan guide, Tsultrim, tried his best to explain to us the significance of each major statue or painting, filling our heads with the names and histories of Tibetan rulers, Nepalese princesses, lamas, and Indian Buddhas. It was as fascinating as it was impenetrable--it seemed to me that no amount of studying could ever reveal all of the complexities that surround this world religion. We Westerners love to throw around the few Buddhist words that have made their way into our vocabulary, touting our belief in karma or gurus or mantras. But the reality is that most of us have no idea what those terms actually mean in their wider context. If Tibet taught me anything, it's that I have a lot more to learn.
After eight hours of meeting the various clay and wooden forms of Past Buddha, Present Buddha, and Future Buddha, Matt and I had to admit to ourselves that the temples were starting to run together. But one experience truly stood out, and that was the monks' debate at Sera monastery. I won't explain all of the history here because I will definitely mess it up, but for those of you who want to know more, this Wikipedia article should be able to clarify a few things and direct you to more scholarly (and trustworthy) sources.
The monastery was founded in the 15th century, and after all these years, the age old tradition of debate is now open for the public to witness. Matt and I were wholly unprepared for the noisy, occasionally seemingly irreverent behavior of the hundred or so monks who filled the courtyard to take part. A system of claps is used to signify whether the monks agree or disagree with each others' responses to their questions, so the air crackled with the sounds of monks clapping and camera shutters firing rapidly amid the din of what sounded like some pretty heated spiritual arguments.
On Thursday, we spent the majority of the day at the Potala Palace, which is the main attraction in the city of Lhasa. Built by a great Tibetan king in the 7th century, Tibetans once believed that it must have been built by the gods--that human hands could never have created such a beautiful (and massive) structure. Photographs are prohibited inside the palace, which was very similar to the many temples we had visited the day before, except that everything was done on a much grander scale. Solid gold Buddhas fifteen feet tall stood sparkling with precious gems that glimmered in the light of the yak butter candles. Ancient scrolls lined the shelves of entire rooms, and monks sat in every corner murmuring prayers and softly rattling their beads.
We emerged from the palace exhausted and in awe of all we had seen. We may have come to Tibet hoping to learn more about the culture and history of this ancient land, but what we realized as each day passed was how complex and (to us) incomprehensible this society was and still is.
Wednesday provided us with the most intensive introduction into Tibetan Buddhism that either of us could ever have imagined. First we went to Jokhang temple, located smack in the middle of the busiest street in Lhasa and teeming with pilgrims, then to Drepung monastery, and then to Sera monastery. I have been to monasteries and temples in China before, but nothing prepared me for the intricate paintings on the walls, the rooms upon rooms of golden Buddha shrines, or the scent of yak butter and incense that filled our nostrils as we tiptoed around red-robed monks chanting their unintelligible mantras.
Our Tibetan guide, Tsultrim, tried his best to explain to us the significance of each major statue or painting, filling our heads with the names and histories of Tibetan rulers, Nepalese princesses, lamas, and Indian Buddhas. It was as fascinating as it was impenetrable--it seemed to me that no amount of studying could ever reveal all of the complexities that surround this world religion. We Westerners love to throw around the few Buddhist words that have made their way into our vocabulary, touting our belief in karma or gurus or mantras. But the reality is that most of us have no idea what those terms actually mean in their wider context. If Tibet taught me anything, it's that I have a lot more to learn.
After eight hours of meeting the various clay and wooden forms of Past Buddha, Present Buddha, and Future Buddha, Matt and I had to admit to ourselves that the temples were starting to run together. But one experience truly stood out, and that was the monks' debate at Sera monastery. I won't explain all of the history here because I will definitely mess it up, but for those of you who want to know more, this Wikipedia article should be able to clarify a few things and direct you to more scholarly (and trustworthy) sources.
The monastery was founded in the 15th century, and after all these years, the age old tradition of debate is now open for the public to witness. Matt and I were wholly unprepared for the noisy, occasionally seemingly irreverent behavior of the hundred or so monks who filled the courtyard to take part. A system of claps is used to signify whether the monks agree or disagree with each others' responses to their questions, so the air crackled with the sounds of monks clapping and camera shutters firing rapidly amid the din of what sounded like some pretty heated spiritual arguments.
On Thursday, we spent the majority of the day at the Potala Palace, which is the main attraction in the city of Lhasa. Built by a great Tibetan king in the 7th century, Tibetans once believed that it must have been built by the gods--that human hands could never have created such a beautiful (and massive) structure. Photographs are prohibited inside the palace, which was very similar to the many temples we had visited the day before, except that everything was done on a much grander scale. Solid gold Buddhas fifteen feet tall stood sparkling with precious gems that glimmered in the light of the yak butter candles. Ancient scrolls lined the shelves of entire rooms, and monks sat in every corner murmuring prayers and softly rattling their beads.
We emerged from the palace exhausted and in awe of all we had seen. We may have come to Tibet hoping to learn more about the culture and history of this ancient land, but what we realized as each day passed was how complex and (to us) incomprehensible this society was and still is.
That afternoon, our guide led us through the Dalai Lama's summer palace, which is located a few minutes outside of downtown Lhasa. It was a vast park full of hushed gardens and tree-lined walkways. Instead of one large palace, the Summer Palace was actually a series of mini palaces, each built during different centuries and under different Dalai Lamas. For me, the most moving part of the trip took place at the fourteenth (current) Dalai Lama's palace. The other visitors to the palace were not tourists like us; they were pilgrims. Many of them appeared to be well into their eighties, and some had tears streaming down their cheeks. Our guide explained that this palace is a sad place for many Tibetans, as it was not yet complete by the time the Dalai Lama fled the country, and he has never been able to return home to enjoy it.
Our last morning in Lhasa, we drove way out of town and up to the top of a mountain to see one of the four holiest lakes in Tibet. The altitude was just over 16,000 feet, and we could feel it! But that didn't stop us from hiking up and down the area to find the best angle for photographing this incredible landscape, which was lined with the Himalayas in the distance.
When I think back on our trip to Tibet, which was a mere two weeks ago, I am shocked by how tinged with exhaustion my memories are. While neither of us suffered from the nauseating altitude sickness we had been warned about, Matt and I fell victim to what must be the driest air in the world, eventually coming down with pretty serious head colds. We only had three days to see a place we can confidently say we will never see again, so the trip was also extremely overwhelming in a lot of ways. But what stands out to me most now was how utterly different a place Tibet was from anywhere I have ever been before.
I cannot get involved in the conflict between Tibet and China, and am not even sure that a Westerner like myself has the right to judge the situation at all. The only thing I will say on this matter is that having lived in China for nearly a year and a half, and having studied this country and its language for longer, I do not see how Tibet can seamlessly fit inside of it. What I saw and experienced was nothing like anything I have ever seen or experienced in China. And I will leave it at that.
I cannot get involved in the conflict between Tibet and China, and am not even sure that a Westerner like myself has the right to judge the situation at all. The only thing I will say on this matter is that having lived in China for nearly a year and a half, and having studied this country and its language for longer, I do not see how Tibet can seamlessly fit inside of it. What I saw and experienced was nothing like anything I have ever seen or experienced in China. And I will leave it at that.
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