The first segment of our journey to Lhasa was an 11-hour bus from Dunhuang to Golmud. Outside the window was the flattest landscape on the planet: it looked as if someone had tossed sand all over the place and then flattened it with a ruler. With nothing to look at in that direction, we had to find entertainment within the bus. A TV above the driver was playing Chinese karaoke, and two girls sitting behind us propped themselves on our headrests and sang the songs right into our ears. That was entertaining enough. This musical ride seemed longer than it really was. Towards the evening we arrived in Golmud.
Golmud is a pretty featureless town. We had a few hours to kill, so we walked around a little bit, happening upon a bunch of people dancing in the street without any obvious reason, and then wandering into a restaurant where we had to select skewers with meat and vegetables from trays along the wall, and then prepare them ourselves in a bowl that was boiling on our table with a number of different sauces. It was a very confusing experience. When our time was finally up we were delighted: awaiting us was a train ride to Lhasa, one of the most unique train rides in the world.
Due to the current scarcity of sleeper tickets we could only book seats. In our carriage we met Tibetans for the first time: slightly dark faces, high cheekbones, and wonderful red cheeks, especially of the little kids. The train left at half past midnight and we curled in our seats, trying to sleep. As dawn broke we found ourselves at the Tangu-la pass, at an altitude of 5072m: we were on the highest rail track in the world. This railway, completed in 2006, was one of the most complex railway projects ever implemented. Most of it is above 4000m; at the highest sections extra oxygen is pumped into the carriages in order to prevent altitude sickness. Much of its route lies on permafrost where the track is elevated on stilts so as not to cause melting. The project cost billions of dollars and will operate at loss for years to come; its main purpose is to strengthen the Chinese control of Tibet, and the Chinese government is prepared to spend as much money on that as is necessary.
In the morning the passengers got busy preparing their breakfast, splitting into two factions: the Chinese started popping instant noodle packages, and the Tibetans preparing their tsamba. The former is a custom on Chinese trains — MSG-filled spicy instant noodles are the train rider’s staple. The latter, tsamba, is a traditional Tibetan food, made of barley flour with water and butter, mixed in a small bowl, rolled into lumps with the fingers and eaten. It is delicious, if a bit fatty, but still the winner of the competition in my book.
Outside, the Tibetan plateau was unrolling before us. It is not called “the roof of the world” for nothing — its average elevation is over 4000m. High-altitude snowy peaks were lingering just above us; vast expanses of land surrounded us, grazed by herds of yaks. Tibetan houses, clustered into small villages, were all flying Chinese flags on their roofs. As we later saw, this was only true along the railway. Quite obviously they were not doing that by their own initiative.
In the afternoon the train rolled into Lhasa. We were greeted by our guide, Tsewang, a very cute young girl who would stay with us during our week in Tibet. At 3700m above sea level, Lhasa is quite low by Tibetan standards, but certainly requires acclimatization for us, so at the insistence of Tsewang we stayed in our hostel for the rest of the day, trying some Tibetan dishes from the hostel’s kitchen.
In the morning we hit the city. A blast of smells and sights flooded us, so very different from anything we’d experienced before. Our hostel was in the heart of the old city, and as we stepped outside we immediately sank into the carousel that is street life in this hectic place — surrounded by street food sellers, pilgrims spinning prayer wheels, hawkers and sellers of every kind, walking and riding bikes and scooters, yelling at us and at each other, pushing their wares and pushing their way. Stupa-shaped incense burners on street corners were puffing smoke, and our guide bought some conifer branches and fed them into one of the burners. Tibetans are a very religious people, and Lhasa is a holy city; many pilgrims come here to pray in one of the temples, or perform the “kora” — a clockwise walk around a temple, spinning a prayer wheel or prostrating every few steps. We saw pilgrims of all ages, from 6 to 60, making the rounds and praying.
At the same time, progress has arrived in Lhasa, along with the Chinese. Brand clothing stores line the broad streets of the new city. Curiously, one of the popular brands is Playboy. Chinese taxi drivers cruise the Chinese-named streets and don’t speak a word in Tibetan. To make things completely clear to everybody, units of Chinese soldiers patrol the city around the clock, and sentinels are posted on the roofs. The Chinese are very clear about this: they are here to stay.
Our first activity for the day was a visit to the Potala palace. It must be one of the most recognizable buildings in the world, and yet, even after seeing it in hundreds of pictures, nothing could prepare me for standing in front of it for the first time: I lost my breath for a few seconds. Perched on a hill in the middle of the city, soaring 300m above it, Potala is very literally breath-taking. We slowly climbed the many steps to the palace, trying not to lose our breath in the thin air, and as we entered, the race against time started: due to the amount of visitors, each one is only allowed one hour inside. Our guide took us quickly through the major rooms of the palace: the reception room of the Dalai Lama, with his throne; his private room; prayer chambers with elaborate statues and wall paintings; finally, tombs of previous Dalai Lamas, each topped by a giant gold-sheathed burial stupa. The fifth Dalai Lama’s tomb is the most sumptuous in the palace, and in the world — 3,700 kg of gold cover it, encrusted with countless diamonds and other precious stones. It’s quite curious how Buddhism appears to be such a spiritual religion, focusing on the soul rather than the matter, and yet not at all impartial to displays of earthly wealth.
After the Potala palace we had lunch with Tsewang and then headed north to the Sera monastery. Once housing 5000 monks, it is now home to just a few hundred, as the Chinese have restricted the ranks, requiring a special permit for a person to become a monk. Tsewang’s brother is one, although in a different monastery. We arrived during debate time: the monks were holding religious debates in the monastery’s courtyard. They clustered around trees in the yard, some of them standing, asking the questions, and the others sitting, answering. Each question is concluded with a loud clap of the hands. If a wrong answer is given, a back-handed clap indicates that. The debates were loud and heated, and although the monks were surrounded by dozens of camera-toting tourists, they didn’t seem to mind that at all.
After leaving the monks we went on to see the rest of the monastery. The main hall was being repaired — a new floor was being laid, and a band of young workers was recruited to flatten the fresh concrete by dancing and stomping on it with special sticks weighted down by flat stones at their end. First the boys sing and dance from one end of the hall to the other, then the girls; turn around and repeat. The dance is their work. This is mind-boggling; but this is Tibet.
We spent the rest of the day walking around the old city and making the “kora” together with throngs of pilgrims. The next morning we boarded our jeep and left Lhasa in the direction of the Nepali border.
August 27, 2011