Leaving Lhasa early, we had a day to get to Shigatse, a sleepy town which would serve as an overnight rest before we headed further up. Our jeep cut through the mild chilly wind into a lonely dusty road ahead that laid out an endless sprawl of terracotta hills of Sinai's proportion. Dots of villagers stood out on a carpet of of lilac wild flowers as herds of sheep and goats crossed the road in front of us, oblivious to the honking trumpeted from the steering of the driver. The hours melted away as the sun rose steadily as we climbed slowly over what I thought would have been 60 elbow turns (?!) up to the Gangbala Pass in the Nagarze County. Here, one of Tibet's holy lakes, the Yamzhog Yumco had become a landmark collection point for some pot-bellied official in Beijing as he charged each passing traveller a hefty fee for the usage of what was essentially, a public road. T.D. told us that the local pilgrims and villagers filed a police report but to no avail because it was "classified" as a special level allowance, whatever that nonsense meant. Avoiding getting more pissed off, we paid and continued driving to a 5,560m-Kharola Glacier. It was an absolute stunner of powder white, heaven blue, and the cold touch of black soil and broken plates of rocks. Maybe a family of ten lived here? It was perhaps one of the prettiest and loneliest places of Earth.
One of the stopovers was to pay a visit at the Kumpum stupa at a Pachu Monastery, built by a local chief named Rapten Kunsang (whatever happened to just "John Smith"?) and a monk, Kadup Gelake Pasang (the first Panchen Lama) in the early 15th Century. This felt like the "real Tibet" with hundreds of pilgrims performing their worship, some sitting under the trees for a quick break of barley beer, bread and tea, while others climbed to the stupa housing over hundred small chapels containing over hundreds of thousands of paintings, wall mural and statues. The scene in the heart of the temple throbbed with the oiliness of a thousand lamps burning, the air chimed with the soothing baritone of the chanting monks, while the mind fed on the combustion of saffron, honey yellow robes inter-mixing with the intoxicating gem stone colours of the wall paintings and giant statues of Sakyamuni, Maitreya, and Avalokiteshvara. A giant fort-like wall surrounded the entire compound with what was left from what was not smashed up during the revolution.
One of the stopovers was to pay a visit at the Kumpum stupa at a Pachu Monastery, built by a local chief named Rapten Kunsang (whatever happened to just "John Smith"?) and a monk, Kadup Gelake Pasang (the first Panchen Lama) in the early 15th Century. This felt like the "real Tibet" with hundreds of pilgrims performing their worship, some sitting under the trees for a quick break of barley beer, bread and tea, while others climbed to the stupa housing over hundred small chapels containing over hundreds of thousands of paintings, wall mural and statues. The scene in the heart of the temple throbbed with the oiliness of a thousand lamps burning, the air chimed with the soothing baritone of the chanting monks, while the mind fed on the combustion of saffron, honey yellow robes inter-mixing with the intoxicating gem stone colours of the wall paintings and giant statues of Sakyamuni, Maitreya, and Avalokiteshvara. A giant fort-like wall surrounded the entire compound with what was left from what was not smashed up during the revolution.
We had a chance to visit the Ta Shi Lhun Po Monastery too, one of the four "Yellow-hat Sect" monasteries in Tibet. More significantly this monastery was founded by Gedun Drupa, the first Dalai Lama in the mid-15th Century. Besides housing astounding collections of statues and references, as well as the 5th-10th Panchen Lama stupa and chapels, it was also a site of the sky burial conducted by local Tibetan of that area long time ago. The spot was marked clearly in the great hall of congregation next to the throne and I personally found this quite amazing. Much of the history had been well preserved except a single wall bearing a faded phrase painted by a resident monk in a hurry to protect one of the holy stupa from the Red Guards, and such phrase albeit almost faint spoke of the brash audacity proclaiming the longevity and power of their "great leader" Mao. It was an ugly scar overriding a wall mural of the many Buddha but who would have known in that time and circumstance? Due to such "foresight" the giant sitting Maitreya statue, a whopper of 26m high survived in its present day form of glorious gold and copper alloy. However, much of the precious gems forming its necklace were gone. I supposed nothing was given free even back then?
The evening's rest at Shigatse was needed. The monastery and temple were immensely satisfying to the soul, and it was gratifying too to see that much had survived and being preserved so well. T.D. mentioned to us that there were more holy books amounting to any knowledge collected by the great Dalai Lama from the past and monks who travelled far between the holy routes of the Buddhism empires long time ago. Most were burnt, one detailed in some Tibetan history books that it took ten days for a great library in one of the monasteries built by the first Dalai Lama in Natang to vapourise, disappointingly at the cost of history.
The evening's rest at Shigatse was needed. The monastery and temple were immensely satisfying to the soul, and it was gratifying too to see that much had survived and being preserved so well. T.D. mentioned to us that there were more holy books amounting to any knowledge collected by the great Dalai Lama from the past and monks who travelled far between the holy routes of the Buddhism empires long time ago. Most were burnt, one detailed in some Tibetan history books that it took ten days for a great library in one of the monasteries built by the first Dalai Lama in Natang to vapourise, disappointingly at the cost of history.
More Devil's elbow turns the next day and we passed by Shegar to begin roughly another 100km of rocky roads. Finally our journey to Rongbuk took us to cross another 5,220m-Gyatsola Pass into the region of Everest, Qomolangma. Another long winding drive downhill we cruised past waving kids and horse-drawn steel carts that looked more like match boxes. Again we saw few villagers but the ones that we met, it was not hard to have a quick greeting. I supposed when you're here permanently and the closest pit-stop could be miles away, any passer-by made interesting update... although there wasn't a shortage of police and army check points. This Big Brother crap was getting a bit annoying. You can't talk about any "counter-revolution" facts in case a masquerading Tibetan might report on you. You listened to song's lyrics that went something like "If there is no Gongchandang (the Communist Party), then there will not be an opened China (a.k.a. the "opened-door" foreign policy)". You sat silently when the news falsified that "bad Tibetans" were stirring up trouble and hurting the "good Tibetans" in the 2008 riot, thankfully we got the Chinese army to calm things down. You read about Chinese bloggers being jailed up for "treacherous" articles.
I just want to get to base camp, okay?
I just want to get to base camp, okay?
