Blank Page 1

Keys to Tibet

By Misha Goussev, September 2000

Previously published in The Wharton Journal (www.whartonjournal.com)

Potala Palace. Lhasa, Tibet.

The square in front of the Jokhang Temple.

View on Potala Palace from the roof of the Jokhang Temple.

It all started three years ago, when I received a fax from my friend. It had a picture of Buddha and contained the agenda for the First International Congress on Tibetan Medicine. The event was supposed to be opened by his Holiness the Dalai Lama in Washington, D.C. I was intrigued and impulsively decided to attend. The event made a very strong impression on me, not to mention the fact that I had the opportunity to personally meet his Holiness, the living manifestation of the Buddha of Compassion (the Ocean of Wisdom), according to 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 translated into one of my long-term plans. The summer between my first and second years at Wharton seemed like an appropriate time for such an adventure. I signed up for a Tibetan tour that would start in Kathmandu (the capital of Nepal), continue over 920 km through Tibetan land via the Friendship Highway, and finish in the holy city of Lhasa, the capital of Tibet.

The Friendship Highway was described in Lonely Planet: Tibet as one of the “most pleasant and the most spectacular rides in the world.” I am not quite sure whether it was the wrong time of year to visit Tibet or whether the conditions had changed since the book was published, but our travel was as pleasant as a journey through hell. Nevertheless, it was extremely spectacular. On the second day, we climbed over 5,000 m above sea level, and as a result, the whole group suffered from altitude sickness. The “highway,” which can be called a dirt road at best, was washed out by the rivers and landslides 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 in Lhasa, we discovered that over forty people had died on this highway during the three-week period prior to our arrival. 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 how it seemed frozen in time. The people, their dress, and the surroundings could have belonged to the fifteenth century; they would have all looked the same then. One would get a similar feeling in the Tibetan part of Lhasa, as it is traditionally flooded with pilgrims from all over Tibet, if it not for the droves of tourists everywhere.

The most interesting and fascinating thing about Tibet for me was its people. Very strong, tempered with harsh weather and the absence of modern conveniences, Tibetans seemed to be etched into this magical land like pieces of gold into a rock. I was continually amazed throughout the 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 their hair) wandering through the mountains without any sign of human civilization for dozens of miles. However, despite their enduring appearance, Tibetans are extremely friendly, curious, and kind people. The most common expression on their faces is a genuine smile that you can see as you wave to them. As a sign of respect, they stick out their tongue, which was quite puzzling to me the first time I was greeted this way. Initially, I was quite reluctant to show my tongue in return. One encounter was particularly memorable: a Tibetan woman (a shepherd) approached our car as our driver was changing a tire. She did not say a word; she simply stared into my eyes for a minute (perhaps because of my height, I looked like an alien to her). Then she 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 little to no attention to tourists, while going through endless rituals and prayers. It is difficult to describe the feeling that I experienced when I entered my first monastery—a Zhashenlunbu Temple—and faced a 26 m tall statue of Buddha (the world’s largest) looking down at me.

While in Lhasa, I attended evening Buddhist services in Jokhang Temple [i](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 seventh century. I must say that this night alone was worth my entire trip to Tibet. On the following day, a strange thing happened 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 the keys back to him after the service and he accepted them with a smile. I would like to think that this gesture had some mysterious meaning that has yet to come to me. I had a feeling that for a short time, I was holding in my hands the symbolic keys to the whole of Tibet.

I left Tibet with mixed feelings, 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 to western eyes. Yet, in spite of the easy access to the holy place, the ancient knowledge of adepts and spiritual masters, which western science is only now starting to approach, is virtually inaccessible to strangers. I distinctly felt that even though Tibet had 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 civilizations in the past. ▪