Lhasa, Tibet
This day turned out to be the best day of the entire trip for me, no doubt attributed in no small part to the fact that I managed to stay away from the tour group the entire day. We had the whole morning free and weren’t scheduled to meet until 11:30 to go to the Potala Palace, I thought. I definitely wanted to go there, so I wanted to be back on time.
Morning exploring
After breakfast, I set out with my cameras hoping to catch some good morning light as the sun rose. Unfortunately, I had pretty bad luck with the light and it wasn’t a nice morning light, but immediately harsh with ugly contrasts and shadows. I couldn’t find any shots in the ghetto I'd scoped out the previous night.
I did come across a group of poor Tibetans, one of them carrying a Tibetan guitar, so I thought he might be a musician, but I don’t think so. He wouldn’t play, he just fiddled with the tuning pegs and asked for money. They all asked for money. And this was the second person I saw carrying a Tibetan guitar who didn't look like he could play the instrument. Just fiddling with the tuning pegs and asking for money.
At this point, I still hadn’t figured out it’s best not to talk to Tibetans in Chinese. I realized later that I should always first talk to them in English, especially since I look Chinese. Many Tibetans know English, but even if they don’t, at least speaking in English makes it clear that I’m not Chinese. That’s of key importance.
Tibetans speak Chinese because they are forced to, but they can’t tell the difference between proper Chinese and my bad Chinese, so no matter how bad my Chinese may be, they can’t tell and immediately assume I’m a fucking mainland Chinese person.
Jokhang Temple
I was so unhappy with the light conditions that I stopped looking for shots, and decided to put that off until later. I still had several hours so I decided to go to Jokhang Temple near our hotel, which is probably one of the more important spiritual centers in Lhasa.
 |
| October 2, 5:45 p.m. |
Rainbow V 22mm lens toy camera, Ilford XP2 Super film:
I had passed by Jokhang first thing that morning, and even as the marketplace was setting up, there was a huge line of Tibetans waiting to enter the temple. I wasn’t sure what that line was, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait in it, because I definitely wouldn't have had time.
But I found the ticket office and the monk there selling tickets told me that tourists buying tickets didn't have to wait in that line and could directly enter. That monk was my first clue that the monks generally are conversant in English.
I went in amidst the buzz and flurry of activity that surrounds this temple, and even though there were Chinese tourists in swarms there, being there did help ground me and put aside the disgust I felt about the Chinese occupation in Lhasa in general, and connect with a spiritual aspect of being there.
 |
| 10:30-10:38 a.m., I forget if tourists were ushered to the upper level or just gravitated there, with ground level mainly for Tibetan practitioners who had to wait in line to enter. |
Tibetan food?
So I went off on my own again, hoping to sample some Tibetan cuisine. The first place I went to was by the ghetto I had found the previous night and had marked as a place to go. The sign outside in English advertising Tibetan food was pretty clear. I entered and walked up the stairs to the restaurant. A Tibetan waitress carrying some dishes came up the stairs after me and served food to some guests at the far end of the restaurant, and then . . . nothing. No one came to seat me, some people glanced at me, but I got the sense I was being ignored and wasn't welcome. I can take a hint. I'm not some obnoxious patron who demands what I want because I can throw money at something. If people don't want me around, I don't stick around, and I definitely got the sense that they didn't want me around, so I left.
Anyway, I had passed another establishment advertising Tibetan food not far away, so I went there. When I got there, I peered inside, trying to assess the situation. An elderly monk outside saw me and invited me in speaking in Chinese. But once inside, someone who was more clearly a restaurant worker, maybe the boss, came by and exchanged a few words with the monk. The monk looked a little embarrassed and uncomfortable, and sensing the situation I gave him some help, asking in Chinese, "No go?", "No go" he replied, and I smiled at him, thanked him, and left.
It still didn't clue in until later that my biggest problem in Tibet was that I was speaking in FUCKING Chinese. But it was incidents like this that built up the case for my conclusion that Tibetans hate the fucking Chinese and the best policy for me is to let Tibetans know right away that I'm not fucking Chinese by speaking in English.
I still thought I had time to grab something to eat before meeting the tour group at the Potala Palace, and giving up on Tibetan food I entered a modern-looking Chinese restaurant called 加州牛肉麵 - "California Beef Noodles". I guess I should've been put off by the name since California has no tradition of beef noodles. Beef noodle soup is famous mostly in Taiwan. And it was a huge mistake going there.
I was the only customer, but service was snail's-pace slow, and as preparing a bowl of noodles should've given me plenty of time to get to the Potala Palace, minutes ticked on and on uncomfortably. Maybe it takes extra long for water to boil at these altitudes? The waitress stood idly by, and my attempts at starting conversation fell flat. These Chinese, however and for whatever reason they ended up in Tibet, were not people persons nor were they interested in "service". Could be that these Chinese who've ended up in Tibet aren't very skilled in boiling water. I'm guessing the person who was an owner was even sitting by doing macrame or something, not helping to make things go faster or more comfortably. I even voiced at one point how uncomfortable it was being there, to no response.
I finally got my noodles 20 minutes later than I anticipated and had to wolf them down and bolt out the door, at which point the owner-person was like, "Going so fast?", but I didn't have the presence of mind to give her the finger and tell her to fuck herself and go back to fucking China. Hopefully I wouldn't have done that even if I had the presence of mind.
Outside Potala Palace
I did get to the Potala Palace on time, but what I didn't know was that there was a special entrance for tour groups. My cousin told me to meet them at 1:10 p.m. to be safe, even though the meeting time was 1:20 to go through security for a 2:00 entrance time. Entrance to the Potala Palace is tightly regulated and security clearance is somewhat similar to airport security in case of terrorist attacks (what terrorist attacks?). The actual going through the Potala Palace is limited to about 50 minutes, giving only a few minutes in each room on the exhibition route.
To make a long story short, I didn't find the tour group entrance on time. In fact, I walked halfway around the Potala Palace to what I eventually found was the exit following erroneous instructions by the Chinese workers. When I finally found the tour group entrance, just a very short distance from where I initially thought the meeting place would be, it was 1:45, and I asked the gatekeepers about the Taiwan tour group, but they said they didn't know anything about it. They don't keep track of what each tour group that goes through is exactly.
To make a long story short, I don't know what I said to gain their sympathy, I'm sure it wasn't my horrible Chinese, but they allowed me go through to look for my tour group, as it was still before the 2:00 entrance time for the group my cousin told me. I went through the security check and then looked for my tour group in the lower outdoor courtyard part of the Potala Palace. I looked around until it was past 2 p.m. and figured I had missed my group and there was nothing I could do.
I went back out to the gate and in Chinese I very politely told them I couldn't find my tour group and thanked them for giving me the opportunity to look for them and was prepared to leave it at that and leave. Maybe they were moved by my sincerity (haha), but they started giving me suggestions, ultimately ending in one of them asking if I wanted to go in today. At first I wasn't sure what they were asking, but then I ultimately answered, 'yes'. Then one of them got on the phone and tried to call the people at the upper gates. At first, they couldn't get through and told me to wait a while, but about 15 minutes later, they contacted the people upstairs and told them there was one more person in the Taiwanese tour group, and that they should let me in.
So I entered again, bypassing the security check because they remembered that I already went through it – not quite as stringent as an airport – and entered the courtyard area again, this time appreciating it more since I wasn't looking for my tour group, and casually started the climb up the huge stairs leading up to entrance.
 |
| 2:18-2:24 p.m., up the stairs to the actual palace entrance, which is way up high |
Lesson: It never hurts to be humble, respectful and courteous. Willingness to accept an unfavorable fate may bring other people to help you get what you want. This was probably my best experience with (otherwise fucking) mainland Chinese people, too.
Inside Potala Palace (no photography allowed)
The advantage of not being with a tour group was that I wasn't constrained by the time limit. As tour groups were rushed in and out of each room, I was able to go through the Potala Palace at my leisure. If one tour group was going too fast for me to keep up, I hung on to the end until they passed and let the next group catch up! I think 5 or 6 tour groups passed me by while I was in there taking in the exhibits. Many of the exhibits were shrines to previous Dalai Lamas, and even though the Potala Palace is a museum now, not a temple or a monastery, people were still leaving offering money all over the place.
Since I was able to go at my own pace, I was able to take my time at each shrine and recite a prayer for the expulsion of the Chinese and that the Dalai Lama or a future Dalai Lama would once again walk in these rooms in the future.
In one room there was a portrait of a lama that I didn't recognize – not surprising, it's not like I know my lamas – but there was a pile of the white silk cloths tossed in front of it as offerings or reverence. If you see any films on Tibetan Buddhism, you will likely see these white silk cloths used as greetings and for blessings. Often a follower will wrap the cloth around the neck of a lama and then the lama will return the gesture using the same cloth as a blessing. But who was it that people were revering in this room? I felt it should've been a portrait of the current Dalai Lama, but of course his image has been outlawed in Tibet by the Chinese government. Then I remembered the picture of the Dalai Lama that Audrey had given me. I also had one of the silk cloths on me (just in case). So I took out the picture of the Dalai Lama, wrapped it in the silk cloth and flung it onto the pile.
I don't know how often museum workers clear out the offerings, but at least for a little while, there was at least one image of the current Dalai Lama in the Potala Palace. If it's a Chinese person who finds it, I hope it hurts his feelings and the feelings of all the Chinese people (which is what the Chinese government claims whenever a foreign country does something that makes them angry, that so-and-so country's actions has hurt the feelings of the Chinese people. Good!). I felt a little good and smug about that little protest gesture. It was harmless (except to the Chinese people's feelings), it was non-violent, I think the Dalai Lama himself would've had a little chuckle over it. I didn't know if my act had been caught on surveillance camera and if I'd be arrested before getting out of the palace. That would've been good, too!
But I exited the palace without incidence. I spent more than an hour and a half inside, beyond the allotted time, which I was only able to do separate from the tour group. There was a huge line of prayer wheels lined up outside the exit and I decided to turn the entire line of them. I'm guessing there was easily more than a quarter-mile of prayer wheels.
 |
| 3:44-3:48 p.m. |
Afterwards, I caught a taxi to go to Sera Monastery, which is one of the major Tibetan monasteries to the north of Lhasa, but since it was so late in the afternoon, there was no activity there, so all I could do was wander the peaceful grounds, along with other tourists who came there late. I was hoping I could make Audrey's offering there, but it was not to be and would have to wait. I thought that was OK. Sera Monastery is major enough that it receives ample support, so I should just be vigilant and make the donation where and when it felt right to me.
 |
| Thangkas portraying Buddhist figures/deities |
 |
| characteristic colors/motifs in Tibetan art, I think |
 |
| Immense thangkas painted on rocks above Sera |
 |
| gargantuan stupa |
 |
| prayer wheels around said stupa |
 |
| ruins remnant from China's destructive Cultural Revolution or just fallen into disrepair? |
 |
| doggo of enlightenment? |
 |
| 4:55-5:29 p.m. |
I was leaving a lot to fate, though, since I didn't know the bus route, and the fact that it was going to "Lhasa" didn't guarantee it was going anywhere I wanted to go. But I'm glad I took the bus. Taking a bus in a strange new city is always a bit of a mystery and an adventure. Here I was hopping on a bus on my second day there! In Taipei, I think it was months before I ventured onto a public city bus.
 |
| Rainbow V 22mm lens toy camera, Ilford XP2 Super film. The second frame is a raw scan with no correction (color removal/contrast adjustment). |
black and whites:
 |
| from Jokhang Temple |
 |
| street shooting |
 |
| after exiting Potala Palace |
 |
| Sera Monastery |
Rainbow V, Ilford XP2 Super:
 |
| street shooting |
 |
| Sera Monastery, raw scan |
