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Potala Palace. Lhasa, Tibet.
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It
all started three years ago when I received a fax transmission from my
friend. The fax had a picture of Buddha and contained an agenda for The First
International Congress on Tibetan Medicine. The event was supposed to be
opened by his Holiness Dalai Lama in Washington
D.C. I was intrigued and impulsively
decided to attend the Congress. The event made a very strong impression on
me, not to mention the fact I had an opportunity to personally meet his
Holiness, the living manifestation of Buddha of Compassion (The Ocean of
Wisdom), according to the Tibetan Buddhism.
My fascination with Tibet
and Tibetan Culture did not subside after the Congress was over and the
desire to visit this mysterious land became one of my long-term plans. The
summer between the first and second years of Wharton seemed like an
appropriate time for such an adventure. I signed up for a Tibetan tour, which
started in Katmandu (capital of Nepal),
continued over 920km through Tibetan land via Friendship
Highway and finished in Lhasa, the Holly city and the
capital of Tibet.
The
Friendship Highway was
depicted in the "Lonely Planet: Tibet"
as one of the "most pleasant and the most spectacular rides in the
world." I'm not quite sure whether the time of the year was not right to
visit Tibet or the conditions had changed since the book was published, but
our travel was as pleasant as travel through hell, but still extremely
spectacular. Judge for yourself: on the second day we climbed over 5000
meters above the see level, making the whole group suffer
from altitude sickness. The "highway", which at best can be called
a dirt road, was washed off by rivers and land slides for about one third of
the way. In addition, Tibetan drivers have a tendency to speed while driving
at the very edge of a cliff. Later,
having arrived to Lhasa,
we found out that over forty people died on this highway during the
three-week period prior to our departure.
Needless to say we were very happy to fly back to Kathmandu when the trip was over.
The
first thing that struck me about rural Tibet
was its frozenness in time. The people, their dress and surroundings might as
well belong to the 15th century and it would all look the same.
The similar feeling one could get at the Tibetan part of Lhasa, traditionally flooded
with pilgrims from all over Tibet
(if it had not been for the enormous amount of tourists everywhere).
The
most interesting and fascinating thing about Tibet
for me was its people. Very strong, tempered with harsh weather and absence
of modern conveniences, Tibetans seemed to be etched into this magic land as
pieces of gold into the rock. I was continuously amazed during the entire
trip to see a single person or even a child (you can see them from far away
because of the traditional red ornament they weave into the hair) wandering
through the mountains when there is no sight of any human civilization for
dozens of miles around. In spite of
their enduring appearance, however, Tibetans are extremely friendly, curious
and kind people. The most common expression on their faces is a genuine smile
as you wave to them. As a sign of respect they stick a tongue out, which was
quite puzzling to me when I was greeted this way for the first time. I was
quite reluctant to show my tongue in return initially. One encounter was
particularly memorable - a Tibetan woman (a Sheppard) came to our car as our
driver was changing a tire. She did not say a word, just simply stared into
my eyes for a minute (perhaps because of my height I looked like an alien to
her). Then she simply turned around and left.
The experience was very tranquilizing, and I did not even think of
taking her picture.
Every
aspect of Tibetan culture is deeply rooted in Buddhism. Numerous monasteries
are full of pilgrims and monks, who pay no or little attention to tourists,
while going through endless rituals and prayers. It's hard to describe the
feeling I've experienced while walking into my first monastery - a Zhashenlunbu Temple - and faced a twenty-six meter tall
statue of Buddha (the world largest) looking down at me.
While
in Lhasa,
I was attending evening Buddhist services in Jokhang Temple
(the main temple in Tibet)
every night. This place became very special for me. On the second day I made
friends with one of the monks at the temple, who showed me around the
monastery after the service. He even showed me a number of rooms where no
tourists were ever allowed. I walked through the rooms surrounded by ancient
statues of Buddha and other deities, most of which were made in the 7th
century. I must say that this night along was worth my entire trip to Tibet.
On the following day a strange thing happen to me. During the service the
abbot of the monastery (I was standing next to him) handed me a big bunch of
keys on a chain from the monastery's rooms. The entire congregation was
looking at me and I did not quite know what to do. I simply gave it back to
him after the service and he accepted it with a smile. I would like to think
that this gesture has some mysterious meaning, which is yet to come to me. I
had a feeling that for the short time I was holding in my hands the symbolic
keys to the whole Tibet.
I
was leaving Tibet
with a very mixed feeling, wondering how much of the real Tibet
I actually saw. "Modernization" and a non-stop stream of tourists
are quickly affecting this sacred land, which used to be closed for the
western eyes. Yet, in spite of the easy access to the Holly place, the
ancient knowledge of adepts and spiritual masters, which western science is
only now starting to approach, is virtually inaccessible to the strangers. I
distinctly felt that even though Tibet
opened its doors it did not reveal its mysteries and its true nature, which
might disappear in the river of time just like some other civilization of the
past. ▪
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