Memoirs of a Lemming

A hush came over the crowd, gone were the clanking of silverware and chopsticks, the chatter of the patrons at the adjacent tables faded into a low unrecognized mutter. Suddenly, it seemed as if the room went silent, even though the restaurant was still filled to capacity. This after all, was the reason that I was sharing the table with her tonight. After a couple hours of exchanging stories from far away lands and distant civilizations, she put down her silverware, slide her plate to the side, rested her elbows squarely on the table and looked me directly into my eyes, and said, “I want you to go to India.”

The first time I heard it, was from Jennie, the well traveled lady from South Africa or British Columbia, but probably more correctly, a citizen of the world. As we shared a table over dinner that night in Tibet, I bombarded her with a flurry of questions, all of which could really not be answered. After all, these were the same questions, I was asked by other vacationers/holiday-ers/short-term travelers. How exactly, can you pick one favorite country, place, sight, memory? It all becomes convoluted, when you factor in: your traveling mates, local people, the culture, experience, climate, ease of travel, personal mood… Everything has an impact on that leg/part of the trip, and therefore there are most likely a list of pros for every place you visit. It was weird, but somewhere during my trip in China, I crossed over that imaginary line, from rookie/novice traveler to more of a veteran status, probably around the four month mark. I was now being approached by other backpackers, for: suggestions, recommendations, helpful hints, tricks of the trade, questions that I was constantly asking others when I first started. But now, sitting before me, was someone who had the record, she had been traveling for almost all her adult life, and to her it was a life style. Just think, every week or month, can bring drastic changes: the place you slept, the type of food you ate, the bus route home; absolutely nothing stayed static, not even: the language, culture, currency, laws or beliefs. And on top of that, all your personal belongings had to fit into your backpack, and when somebody asks you, where is your home, you hesitate, and can’t recall the name of the hostel/hotel. I was intrigued by this lady, and her stories and experiences, but really wanted to know, why she chose this lifestyle. Did she miss what the rest of the world would call a “normal” life, at which point did traveling become the normal life, and did sitting still become a vacation? There was really no true answer to those questions, and I didn’t expect one, but she knew and understood where I was coming from. She basically told me, that she found what her purpose in life was, that one thing that we all (whether we admit it or not) search for. And for her, she fulfilled it when she traveled, when she was challenged with a new environment and learned about the world and herself. So, after she shared, she asked me to share the same, and when I finished with my reasons for taking this trip, she said: “I want you to go to India.”

During our conversation, I had shared with her things that I was not ready for, and how basically India, typified all those things/attributes. The inequality, the poverty, the sickness, the pollution in the air and in the street, the death…, not to mention the lack of red meat! I guess in a weird way, it was something that I feared, much like my previous feelings about orphanages. That is when I remembered back, to an earlier part of my trip, on the first day of the Russia Tour, we were asked to introduce our-self to our traveling mates, along with what we feared. I had told the group, that mine was the realization/identification of a new fear. As it would almost become an obsession for me to understand it and try to overcome it, like my (previous?) fear of heights, whereas all you guys back home would probably say its a fear of a commitment.

So as we parted ways, I told Jennie that I would seriously give it some thought, and really appreciated our conversation that night. Little did I know, that Jennie would not be the last of the India supporters. Next came Belinda, than Mariah, Callie, Mark, Rain, Ilana and Neil. One by one, they all said the same thing: go to India! It was like a fraternity/a club, a rites of passage as a backpacker/traveler/nomad, a citizen of the world: you must go to India. It was actually quite hilarious, as each one would describe: the pollution, the congestion of traffic, the chaos of the crowds, the hassles of the touts, tuk-tuk drivers, and beggars, the sadness of the handicapped/deformed, the lepers and the begging children, and the filth throughout any street throughout any city or town. They would each provide vivid accounts of personal incidents, which would not be endorsed by the India Tourist board, but all would end with those shocking words: But you have to go to India. Over the course of my first four days at the Borderlands Resort/Retreat, almost every free moment was spent discussing the subject of India, and everyone trying to convince me that I need to go, and become a member of the club.

The crossing of the border between Tibet and Nepal is very unique, at least for me, when compared to the others that I have encountered. The border check points are separated by a handful of kilometers, which is common, but in between them are heaps of stores and people living in this no-man’s-land. It is unclear how difficult it is for them to cross between the borders or even how often they may do so. But the interesting thing, is to look at the crowd as you walk from one checkpoint to the other (after taking a van ride for the first 7 km). The people and faces of the local crowd, actually start to change, right before your eyes. There is already a noticeable difference between the appearance of the Chinese versus the Tibetans, mostly with facial features and skin color, not sure if its pigmentation or sun. But, as we walked further from the Tibet/China border, the people started to look different, not quite the same as people from China, Tibet or India, but almost a blend of all of them. That is when I realized that I either know or have previously met someone from every country that I have visited to-date, but can’t ever recall meeting someone from Nepal. So after acquiring our Visa at the immigration office/check point (make sure to always bring plenty of passport photos, as it has been real handy when add extra countries to your itinerary) and negotiating the 4 hour jeep ride to Kathmandu down to 700Rupees ($1 USD – 63 Rps) per person, I burrowed a copy of The Lonely Planet and tried to do a cram session on the subject of Nepal, highlighting it’s history, people, culture and significant sights.

Turns out, it’s an interesting time to visit Nepal. Apparently, scattered throughout most travel guides, are warnings to check on the latest government and travel websites, discussing the stability of Nepal’s political/government system and potential terrorist activities. Nepal, until very recently, operated as a Monarchy, but now the King is more of a figure head, with the new governmental system (and it’s people) still in a state of flux, as it tries to find its equilibrium.

One can not talk about government and politics in Nepal, without talking about the Maoist, the Communist Party of Nepal. Once considered as rebels, the Maoist have been invited to join the interim government, as they have the voice and the ear of many people, especially out in the country areas. But, the Maoist have continued to stir things up and left the government, until their conditions are met, which includes the declaration of a republic. The warnings in the travel guides mostly discuss the Maoist rebels and their involvement: in the civil war that have led to deaths, and the “tolls” aka extortion fees that they charge foreigners for trekking or driving through their territory. The interesting thing, is that the Maoist, proclaim that they have no issues with tourists, want to promote it, and when you are hit up for the toll, they actually issue a receipt, so that you don’t get hit up twice.

As we wound our way down the hills to the valley of Kathmandu, the scenery resembled much more of the tropics, than the rocks, and low lying vegetation on the other side of the border. The temperature also started to creep up, and I almost felt like I had just landed in Hawaii. Than, when we got to the bottom of the hill, I knew that we weren’t in Hawaii. The chaos of a developing country (using developing very loosely, probably third world at best), jumped right before our eyes. The sounds of diesel engines and motor bikes, along with it’s intense exhaust fumes and smells filled the air. There were people, goats, cows, oxen, dogs and garbage everywhere. What seemed like madness and chaos to us, westerners, was just their version of a used, not well maintained, un-oiled machine, but one that still works.

That’s when Vanessa made an interesting observation, the goats were being kept like a family pet. We saw them, on leashes being walked down the street, in the back seat of a car, even being held by the passenger on the back of a motor bike, whereas the dogs ran free down every street. Turns out, that we arrived in the middle of Dasain (a 15-day religious festival/holiday), and just a couple days before Asthami (day eight of the festival), which is known as the day of sacrifices, where goats become a high commodity, for you know what.

After over four and a half months of traveling, I had finally reached it: a destination, where I had to throw out all my preconceived notions and understanding of how the world operated. Nepal, was going to have it all: they drove on the other side of the road, bikes out numbered cars, a pseudo-monarchy/government, rebel insurgents, cows/oxen/goats had the right of way, and their time zone was 5.75 hours ahead of GMT. I mean, who breaks it done 15-minute intervals? Apparently, it was a political statement, so that they can always be 15-minutes ahead of India (+5.5 GMT). Yes, this was going to be more eye opening for me, than even Egypt, and I was excited!

Upon, arriving in Kathmandu, the four of us split up, due to our preference for accommodations. Gui and Vanessa went up to northern Thamel, where they had nicer accommodations; I chose to stay in the heart of Thamel, the haven for backpackers; and Berndt chose Freak Street (no comment), an old part of the City, which is much more quiet than the bar and restaurant lined section of Thamel.

On my first full day in Kathmandu, I took advantage of being solo again, and decided to take a stroll through town, not knowing where to go and what to see, but just figure it out along the way. Boy, was I in for a surprise, the streets of Thamel and most of Kathmandu, are unpaved, tight/narrow, with people, motor bikes, cars and rickshaws, zipping up and down, while dodging the cows and pedestrians along the way, when all of the sudden, I saw a small herd of cattle (three) sprinting right for me. I jumped off to the side, laughed at the sight, and tried to take a picture of my mini-running of the cows, and wondered what caused them to scurry away. As I rounded the corner, standing in the middle of the street, was the answer, all 3-plus meters and who knows how many tons of him, was the reason for the running cattle, it was an elephant; did I say that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Welcome to Dogmandu (which I have affectionately named due to the number of dogs running wild, and lack of cats). The elephant was the lead and main attraction of a parade, that worked its way through the streets around Durbar Square. The rest of the parade was anti-climatic, as there were no more animals, just kids, men, and women walking behind, waving to the crowds on the street.

For the next few days, everyday was highlighted by three squares meals a day, and as soon as one meal was completed, the next eating establishment was being considered. The promise of continental cuisine, was indeed delivered, as restaurants up and down Thamel, included selections from all over the world: Italian, Chinese, Israeli, Indian, and even steak (not the best, but its a Hindu state, so whose complaining). If you are ever in Dogmandu, I can recommend a few eating establishments: Helena’s, for their breakfast and lunch menu and their rooftop view; Third Eye for their lunch menu; Fire and Ice, for their pizza, and proper soft serve waffle cone; and K-Too’s, for their NY steak, just take off the fried egg, which seems to pop up on many sandwiches as well.

Of course, I did take in a bit of sightseeing at Durbar Square, which we (Belinda, Brooke and I) happen to visit on the day of the sacrifices, which happened to be the only day of the year, that Hindus are allowed to enter the main Temple complex, and foreigners are not. So the three of us watched from outside as the massive line waited to enter, and they dragged out the remains of the sacrificed animal (we only saw the body of one oxen). Earlier that morning, just after sunrise, there was a large amount of sacrifices of goats and oxen/water buffaloes, where it is required, by ritual, that they slice off the head of the animal with one fierce stroke. I never saw it, but as it was described to me, it was almost like a hot knife through butter. The rest of the day, we hung-out at the Square hoping to catch a glimpse of: the King, who was rumored for a visit that day; and Kumari Devi, who is considered a human goddess until she reaches puberty, and is carried everywhere, as she is not allowed to touch the ground, as is the case with all Goddesses, just read your goddess manual. A new Kumari Devi, is selected when the current one, reached puberty, all if she loses too much blood from an injury, and is selected from a pool of girls that meet various criteria including age, appearance, and how they handle stress. The family of the goddess is well taken care of, by the state, so one can only imagine the chaos, when a new of is selected and the families volunteer their daughter for consideration. We never did see the King or Kumari Devi, but did enjoy being a spectator at the Square on one of the holiest days of the year for the Hindus of Nepal.

After a week of eating and sightseeing, which included a visit: to Swayambhunath, aka the Monkey Temple; Pashupatinath a burning ghat, which I will explain in more detail during my trip to Varanasi, and a few self-guided walking tours of Kathmandu; I was ready to get away from the smog and craziness of Thamel. So, I signed up for a four day trip, back up the hill, near the border with Tibet, for two days of whitewater rafting and two of canyoning, thats when I was bombarded and peer-pressured to…

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a travelers trip.
That started from a Yak crazed city, aboard a four wheeled ship.
The mate was mighty bored one day, so he decided to write this song.
The driver was a local man, who was grumpy, lazy, but rarely wrong.
The three other passengers on board that day, I will shortly introduce.
But first I must change the words a bit, So that I don’t get sued, So that I don’t get sued.

The weather started getting rough, as it rained, sleet than snowed.
If it was up to the father to be, than there would be, No place to go, No place to go.

The group eventually made it to the border one day, walking the final fateful stretch.
But only after saying bye to the driver, As he turned waved and left, as he turned waved and left.

There was: Tenzin, the working crew.
The Rainman, who had no wife.
An engineer.
Vanessa and Gui, the parents to be.
Here on this overland ride.

With only a couple options of leaving Lhasa, via overland, most elect to hire a driver and land cruiser while heading for Nepal, rather than taking the train back into China. And as much as I did enjoy the train ride, I was not looking forward to another 45 hours on a train, to a destination I had already been. But the main deciding factor, was the opportunity to visit Everest Base Camp, on the Tibet side, along the way, and the promise of great international cuisine on the other side.

Along with almost every hotel in Tibet, there is a travel agency, and in front of each of these offices, there is a notice board, where travelers, backpackers and/or trekkers communicate with each other looking for additional members for their party/team. It is by this method that I met my travelling mates for the overland trip to Nepal.

Gui and Vanessa, a married couple, had tried signing up for another group, but the spots were already filled by the time they made contact. So Gui, decided to spearhead the formation of a new, stronger, better team, one that can over take its competition, and blaze a new path for all future travelers to follow, so he and Vanessa, added Berndt, aka Rainman (I will explain later), and searched for the final integral member of the this Fantastic Four Team. But instead, they got me, so it was back to a team of your average, run of the mill, stragglers from across the globe.

Our team, was one that the United Nations would have been proud of: Vanessa, from the States raised in New Mexico, and parents are Panamanian and European descendants. Gui, is more than happy to tell you about his home country of Brazil, but he also has ancestors that are Dutch and Jewish. Berndt, not quite as mixed, is German, and probably 100 percent, at that. Tenzin, our Tibetan driver, who shares his first name with the man who accompanied Sir Edmund Hillary, on that first conquest of Everest, so we had to be in good hands. And of course yours truly. Once again, I literally signed on last minute, as the group met at the travel agency to fill out the paper work for the permits and to pay our 1750 yuan each, for the trip.

After getting to each new destination, my goal has been to reach a state that I have dubbed as “cruise control.” It is when the date and method of departure has been determined and established. For some places, you can determine the process, but not establish it, as it may be a public bus, that you can not reserve or predict, and therefore alternatives weighed and decisions made. That is why cruise control is great, you just go along for the ride and enjoy the view. So, although, every step of our trip could never be exactly mapped out, the original team of three had already selected the places they wanted to visit, the sites to see, and the places to stay overnight, I was more than happy to set it into cruise control.

Over the course of the next seven days (six in Tibet, and one in Nepal), I had a chance to get to know my traveling mates, well:

Tenzin, our driver in Tibet, knew the roads well, even when there was no road turn off. On the way, down from Everest Base Camp (EBC) to the Nepal border town of Zhangmu, there were only short stretches of pavement, but he knew where every turn and road rut was. But the trouble, was getting him to wake up and start moving.

Berndt, a software engineer, traveled at least a month every year. Honestly, we had a hard time finding any places that he had still not gone, outside of the Americas and Antarctica. He was also my roommate, for the trip, as there was a much better rate for a double than single bedroom for the places we visited, and dorms were almost non-existent. That was when I started calling him “Rainman,” but never out loud. He was a good guy, but so methodical to the point that every step was repeated day after day. A few examples: he had to do the kora around every Monastery and Temple, if he didn’t think he had enough time, he would mutter: I need time for the kora, I need time for the kora… He had to have Yak butter tea with every meal, while in Tibet, he constantly talked about the fact that the restaurant must have Yak butter team, and as soon as we sat down, he would tear through the menu, and almost not take a breathe, until he saw that it was on the menu and he had ordered a glass. He also only like to have the one and only English channel on the TV, this makes sense since he didn’t understand Chinese. But in China and Tibet, because of the 2008 Summer Olympics, there is a channel dedicated to sports 24 hours a day, with replays of old Olympic events. Being the consummate sports fan, I would like to watch this, but with the volume down or off, and only did so on a couple occasions. When he walked into the room, and saw the sports channel on, he would start to mutter his complaint, not that it was in Chinese, but actually: Oh no sports is on, I don’t like sports, I don’t like sports… The list could go on, with his routine, when preparing for bed, falling asleep, snoring, getting up in the middle of the night not very quietly, turning off and on the lights… I actually liked the guy, but just found it amusing, and the fact that as a traveler, ability to adapt is key, and you knew that he could, since he has been more places than the rest of us combined, but he developed such a set routine in Tibet, and he had to abide by it, almost religiously. I guess when in Tibet, do as the Tibetan Buddhists.

Than there are Vanessa and Gui. They met in Alabama, while finishing up there medical fellowship program. They had been traveling for 3 months, with one more to go, and now in the process of moving from their most recent residence of San Diego to Gui’s home land, Brazil. Married for over a year and half, you would have thought that they were newlyweds or just engaged, not that they displayed POD, but just the way they carried on, talked and looked at each other. It was very cute, and I thought that they are probably the best couple that I have spent time with on this whole trip. When traveling together for any long periods of time, there are those moments when both or either one is not at their best, and takes it out on the other. I have seen it with best mates, couples, siblings, it truly can be the test of any relationship. Just think about those moments of frustrations, in a distant land, with a foreign country, different culture, anybody and everybody will get razzled at some point. Its not that they were never affected, but they just knew how to handle each other just the right way, at those key moments. I was impressed, and really enjoyed talking to them, and getting to know them. I will give you an example:

It’s our last day with Tenzin, who is in a hurry to drop us off at the border town, so that he can head home. Just before, we start heading down the hill, from altitude of 4000m to apx 2000m, it starts to rain, which quickly turns to ice, and next thing we know, an actual snow storm hits. Didn’t somebody tell the weather gods, that I am skipping winter this year! Believe it our not, its the first time I had been in falling snow. So as we are driving, Gui reads that the road downhill is also known as the gates of hell, due to its shear drops, narrow winding unpaved path, ruts caused by the constant waterfall. So he calls a team meeting, at our 4 pm pit stop, and wants the team to over-ride Tenzin’s desire to drive down the hill tonight. He cited a number of good reasons, why we shouldn’t, and looked at each of us for some concurrence. Berndt seemed okay with the idea, and I said that I didn’t mind moving forward, but would abstain from voting and go with the group. Than Vanessa, actually talked him out of it, by asking him to delay his decision until we saw how the conditions were at the end of our pit stop and what all the other groups were doing, there was a caravan of more than ten teams, mostly in front of us. When we got back in the car, Gui repeatedly asked Tenzin to verify/promise that it was safe, he said that it was not worth taking any risk, as he didn’t care as much about himself as he did about his wife and expected kid! That is when I looked at Vanessa, and said, I didn’t know you were pregnant, you hadn’t mentioned it the last five days. She responded, well actually you guys are now the first to know other than ourselves, we hadn’t even told our family yet. Gui, basically let it slip out, as he was so nervous about the ride down. In the end, Vanessa made Gui sit in the back, so that he could not see the road ahead, and we talked about how they met, so that Gui was mostly distracted from looking out the window. They just knew how to handle each other, it was very nice to witness. So, Vanessa and Gui, don’t share this blog with your family and friends, until after you told them about the kid

I am a bit templed and monasteried out, so here is a list of what I saw, along the way:

Day One – pit stop at Yamdrok-Tso Lake, stopped at Gynatse mid day, and visited the Fortress. Elevation, 3200m.

Day Two – stayed at Gyantse, with visit to local Monastery.

Day Three – Shigatse with visit to Tashilhunpo Monastery, seat of Panchen Lama. Elevation: 3900 m.

Day Four – Shegar, a monastery and temple free day. Our hotel actually had a basketball court, where I got to shoot around and play for over three hours, at an altitude of 4050m, surprised that I didn’t collapse.

Day Five – Rongphu Monastery, didn’t go in or do the kora, as we preferred to walk from EBC back to our dorm for the night. 5200m at EBC. Dorm at just above 5000m.

Day Six – To border town of Zhangmu. Elevation: 2300m.

Day Seven – We walked across the border, Friendship Bridge, which didn’t look so friendly, with the guys totting guns/rifles on both sides telling you not to take pictures of the bridge. This was also the first time, on my trip that I had to physically walk through the border. On the other side we purchased our 60 days Visas for $30 USD, negotiated our Jeep ride into Kathmandu, and we were off in search for food. But unfortunately for Berndt, the days of Yak butter tea was over, as Yaks only live above 3000m.

Hope all is well.

The most commonly asked question, once you are west of Xi’an in China, is: Do I really need a permit to visit Tibet, if so, how do I get one? Of course, this is assuming that you are headed for the territory known in China, as: the Special Autonomous Region of Tibet. To many, this is the fabled Shangri-la, also known as the Rooftop of the World, as much of the region sits above 4000m and in some areas in excess of 5000m. But to the Buddhist sects (there are five) of Tibetan origin, the city of Lhasa represents the epicenter of its religion, similar to: the Vatican, Jerusalem, and Mecca.

What was once off limits to foreigners, Lhasa is now easily accessed mainly due to the completion of the Qinghai-Tibet Railway. Now, almost anybody can access Lhasa from as far as Chengdu, Beijing, or Shanghai with a fairly efficient 45 to 52 hour train ride, depending on your chosen city of departure. For those interested in duplicating this pilgrimage during your next trip to China, I will attempt to simplify the convoluted process, which is actually fairly simple, but just made to be perceived difficult in an attempt to extract more fees for the permit:

In summary, technically all visitors (as of today) are suppose to have a permit, although I was never asked to present/show mine. It is my understanding that they are more stringent on permit inspection when you fly to Lhasa, versus going by rail. Permits must be requested from the PSB/TBB office via a travel agent, individuals are not allowed to process/apply their own. The application and issuance is suppose to take up to three days, but I got mine in one. Once you have the permit, you are officially allowed to buy your rail ticket from the rail office. However, I purchased my ticket prior to applying for a permit, as the rail agent did not require me to show proof. Once you have both ticket and permit, you are good to go, but the permit only allows access to certain areas in Tibet, namely Lhasa and the immediate areas surrounding Lhasa. Additional permits are required if you desire to travel outside of Lhasa, such as the overland journey to Everest Base Camp and to the Nepal border. Additionally, many other areas within Tibet are restricted zones monitored by the military and access to foreigners is strictly forbidden. (Initially, I wanted to circle back into China, specifically the Yunnan province, by taking an overland route through southern Tibet, but quickly learned, that this was not possible.)

Okay, so how do you get this infamous permit. Four simple words: “Show me the money.” Just about every travel agent, hotel, hostel, will tell you how complicated it is, and that you should purchase packaged with travel and accommodation, for the best price. Hog-wash, just tell them that you only want the permit (if its even required). Many agents, will say that they don’t do that, as the margins are not as high, or give you a quote of 700 to 1500 yuan. Shop around, by calling budget hostels, as they seem to have the best price, I purchased mine for 350 yuans.

I included this explanation, not to bore you (which it probably did), but rather to illustrate what is common in the world of backpackers when trying to figure out the visa/permit for the various countries/regions around the world, while filtering the bogus information you are fed by travel agents. All this is done of course, in an effort to save a buck, as in the world of backpacking, any extra dollars saved is equivalent to extra days abroad, at 350 yuans that is equivalent to at least a two days allowance in China, many more days for the extra thrifty.

So, with my train ticket and permit in hand, and National Week almost over, I bid a farewell to the my new Chengdu buddies: Stefanie, Nissa, Monika and Megan, who are all university friends back from the States (Pacific Lutheran of Washington State), and now teaching English in various parts of China, and Brooke who I originally met in Xi’an on that Terracotta Warrior tour, along with Eddy and Eoin. Oddly enough, Eddy, Brooke, and I are all from Southern California, more specifically within 20 minutes from each other: Huntington Beach, Newport Beach, and Costa Mesa, respectively. You would be amazed at the number of Americans you meet in China, I was proud to see we were as well traveled, after spending all that time in Eastern Europe and mostly hanging out with Ozzies, Kiwis, Canadians, and Brits most of the time.

The train ride, was truly an experience. I was shocked by how quickly the 45 hours, literally flew by. But of course, I splurged and went with a soft sleeper cabin, which cost more than 3 times the price of a hard seat, and more than a 50% premium of a hard sleeper. Can you imagine, 45 hours on a hard seat? Amazing enough, many do it, but I was more than happy to go for the upgrade, and was actually rewarded with my own personal cabin for the whole trip, where I broke out my Ipod along with speakers that I purchased in China, and jammed: Jay-Z, Sinatra, Ne-yo, Kanye, Lauryn Hill, and I am somewhat surprised/ashamed (but not really) to say: Norah Jones, who for some reason I have started to listen to, since the start of the trip. The view along the way (namely, during the second 24 hour, after switching trains) was absolutely amazing: the sky was so blue and clear, and the clouds white and alive, the hills were lush with every shade of green, brown and yellow, and the water of Nam-Tso Lake calm, clear, blue and looked like a mirror reflecting the image of the sky. Seriously was one of the more beautiful peaceful images, I have ever seen in my life… I enjoyed the view, while Norah serenaded me to my many cat-naps.

After arriving in Lhasa, checking in and freshening up (which was badly needed after two days on a train) I met up with Jon (who I previously mentioned and has lived in Lhasa the past three months) and his group of ex-pat friends. It turned out that they were having a gathering at their place for a couple reasons: it was a birthday party for one of their friends, and it was also a going away party for two of them, one of which was Jon, who was headed back to the States within the week. It was great to speak to ex-pats from around the world, who were either volunteering or working for NGOs (Non-Governmental Organizations). What I learned was a bit surprising. Not sure what I expected, but most of the volunteers/NGOs had yet to visit many/any of the temples or monastery, rather they were sometimes like Norm at Cheers, in that they had a local network of ex-pat friends who they would meet regularly at one of the local watering-holes or discos. Not that they went there to drink, but more to have reminders of home, where they can speak their native tongue and have their favorite 70s, 80s, and only if you are lucky 90s music playing in the background. For some reason, I just assumed that many would just totally immerse themselves into the local environment and culture and would leave any and all western things behind. They explained to me, that to live abroad was not to forbid yourself of the things you enjoyed, like that hamburger or that apple pie, as a matter of fact, they were able to identify to me, all the places to get the best western dishes and deserts. At the same time, they were able to educate me on the culture, thinking, and politics/issues of the local region, which was great, as it (politics and Tibet) is a sensitive subject in China, but more so with Tibetan-Chinese relations.

As much of the world has adopted the slogan/chant of “Free Tibet”, Tibetans cry it on the inside, but do not voice it on the outside, especially if you are a foreigner. Unless, of course you are a foreigner of Chinese decent, whom they have mistaken to be Chinese from China, and one of their oppressors. Not that I had many run ins or situations, but lets just say that a few of the locals, didn’t take to me too kindly, but changed a new tune when they discovered that I was from the States, with an American passport.

My time in China, has been interesting well beyond the site that I have seen and places that I have visited, rather it has been more thought provoking and reflective, as many of you have noted and can see from my recent blogs. Honestly, this could not have been avoided, as I was often put in check and asked to define who I am by the locals, and this did not only happen once but actually quite often. I will give you an example: someone would hear me speaking either broken Chinese, or English, give me the once over and ask me where I was from, this would be a trick question. When I answered the States, they would say, but aren’t you Chinese. Of course, I would respond that, yes I am, but I grew up and live in the States. This would then invite them to explain, that I am Chinese, regardless of where I live, and that I should be proud and always respond by saying Chinese, first and fore-most. Being as I am, I would respond/explain to them, that they did not ask me, what race I am or where my family/ancestors are from, as if they had I would have been more than eager to tell them that I am indeed Chinese. Of course a stalemate would ensue, and nothing really accomplished. The fact that this actually happened a few times, triggered some things for me, some personal, but also a little proud that the locals had so much pride in who they are, its something that I didn’t see as much six years ago, but may also explain why I was not being welcomed with open arms, anymore. The funny thing is, if they found out that I was born in Taiwan, that would have incited a different type of tirade and would have actually invited more hostility. I have digressed a bit, but with a purpose. Now in Tibet, I faced the same aggression, but only on a couple minor incidents, both of which was quickly diffused when they found out that I am from the States, and born in Taiwan too boot. I think the Tibetans, feel a bond with Taiwan, as they are both countries that China will not let go. So the moral of this story is: just mess them all up and speak Spanish. You think I am joking, but I actually did this from time to time, as it would just confuse everybody and they would just walk away. This is a great technique when you are approached by touts, trying to sell you everything under the sun.

Over the course of the next six days, I visited: the 1300 year old Jokhang Temple, the mecca of Tibetan Buddhist Temples; the Potala Palace, previous home to the Dalai Lama and consider by many to be an architecture wonder of the world; and the Sera Monastery, where I watched a hundred monks yell and point at each other, in what is known as the debating monks. Many Monastery require their monks to debate once if not twice a day, as it is part of their days, just like studying. As described to me, the process of debating, makes one think and in the process learn and strengthens their beliefs. If you are ever in Lhasa, make sure you stop by the Sera Monastery Debating Monk Rock Garden between 3 to 5 pm, you can’t miss it, just listen to the sounds of a hundred monks arguing.

In between the visits to the Temples, I would do a kora a day, to keep the positive karma up as much as possible. The kora is an amazing site, first what is it? A kora, is the path around a temple or religious building in a clockwise direction. So since Jokhang Temple is as religious as it gets, you can imagine the amount of Tibetan Buddhists doing the kora. Now when doing the kora, its not just walking it, most have mala prayer beads in one hand, and a prayer wheel which they wrist to revolve in a clockwise direction, while they walk, all while chanting at the same time. But is you are an extremist, you prostrate around the kora. Prostration is their form of praying, where you start standing up, than you drop to your knees and prayer, then drop to all four, and slide your arms forward, and your knees back, so that you are literally lying on the ground, all in one quick motion. For those that prostrate around the kora, there are the extremist, than their are the full-on extremist, those that prostrate along the kora, in essence moving a couple meters each time, or those that prostrate facing/perpendicular to the Temple, so only moving half a meter each time. The truly full-on extremist actually prostrate to the temple from home and back, even if their home is in another country. Yes, you heard me right, another country!!! Don’t even get me started on the prayer flags, prayer confetti, the prayer wheels around the buildings, the large prayer wheel buildings… All this is done, to ensure their worthiness as each kora, prayer, revolution, etc…, is worth a merit towards heaven.

Now, feeling that I could never do enough to reach enlightenment, I decided to go with all the other lemmings, and head to Nepal via an overland journey, with a stop at Everest Base Camp. On that ride, I met one of the loveliest couple.

A friend I met along the way in China, has just returned home to Ireland, after traveling the world for a year. The night before his flight home, a few of us grabbed a bite and a drink at a local pub, and exchanged some of our personal traveling stories. Since he was the elder statesman of the group, based on number of days on the road, and as it was his last night abroad, he entertained us with his humorous and shocking stories from around the world, from Argentina to India to Thailand. Obviously, he was sad to end his trip, but at the same time, probably alittle anxious to once again celebrate the comforts of home, and to join the company of friends. I just checked his blog/facebook the other day to find the following statement: “I can’t believe that nothing has changed  in a year! I’m buying a ticket and getting the f%$# out of here!”

Since I have left home, I am confident that I have changed, some intentional, as I am a work in progress, but also hopefully in other subtle ways that will probably take the rest of my life to realize. Five months, isn’t a long time, or at least so it seems, in our normal day to day life, but things happen during the course of those days, weeks, or months to change the course of the rest of our lives, whether we are on the road or not. So, here are a few things, from the last five months, to celebrate:

• The birth of Mikey (aka Jr) Poortstra to proud and happy parents, Ben and Kristi (aka Khors) Poorstra.
• The birth of another healthy child to Mr & Mrs John Fong.
• My good friend, Trisha Mehta, got engaged. Who will go with me last minute to Lakers game now?
• The Buricks are now expecting another child.
• Elisabeth and Kevin Gustorf, who constantly pushed me to do this trip, are now expecting their first child.
• The Fierros moved into their new Victorian style house, but now Hansel and Gretel will have to find a new place to live!

I have appreciated the effort of you all, to keep me in the loop while I am away.

Entertaining observations. You know you have been traveling for awhile, when:

• It is normal to see: chickens, goats, donkeys, and/or oxens, casually walking down the street.
• You are excited to see that the toilet is more than a hole in the ground, and even happier when you see toilet paper.
• A hair in your food, only causes you to remove that bite, and eat around it.
• You are shocked to see a bathtub.
• It is more common to see two boys/guys holding hands with each other, than with a girl.

Hope all is well.

The mildly awaited, some what anticipated, pictures of my trip through: Turkey, Egypt and Jordan. Hope you enjoy.

Turkey:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=78ky293.bwa1n6cn&x=0&y=-vcoxd2

Egypt:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=78ky293.8lt89yiv&x=0&y=8o2ks0

Jordan:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=78ky293.ch3cfurr&x=0&y=-8tj9ie