Shigatse, Tibet
At one place we practically had to push our way out of the bus because they were crowding around the door shoving necklaces in our faces. It may be an indication of how desperately poor Tibetans are and what the Chinese economic plan in Tibet is doing to Tibetans, but I can't speak too much on the issue, because the situation outside of Lhasa isn't as facially clear.
Rainbow V 22mm lens, Ilford XP2 Super film:
Our first major stop was at Palcho Monastery in Gyantse, more than halfway to Shigatse. We first arrived at a plaza that had a view of an impressive structure with architectural elements similar to the grandeur of the Potala Palace. At first I was excited thinking it was the monastery we were going to visit, but it turns out it is the ruins of Gyantse Fort.
After doing the tourist gawk for 10 minutes, we got back on the bus and headed to Palcho Monastery, just down the street less than 5 minutes away. It was surrounded by impressive walls which may have been connected to the fort at some point.
I took to this modest but sincere monastery, which despite nearly being destroyed by the Chinese during the fanatical and bloody Cultural Revolution (during which untold numbers of ordinary Tibetans and monks were arrested, tortured and slaughtered) still houses a handful of monks. And unlike other monasteries which have been converted into tourist spots with the resident monks acting as sideshows for the Chinese, the remoteness here appears to have allowed it to maintain a quiet dignity.
It was at this monastery, in one of the side room shrines while monks were chanting in the main hall outside, I decided it was appropriate to leave Audrey's hundred dollar donation. Looking back, the odd thing is that I didn't make the offering obvious. It wasn't the amount of the offering, people leave offerings of all denominations at these shrines. There are piles of all types of currency, including U.S., as well as bills stuffed in all cracks and crevices.
I don't know why I did what I did, I just did it. I had Audrey's slip of paper (and her nanny, Faye's) on which she wrote down the names of everyone in her family and her address, and I had added "...and all sentient beings", thinking Audrey's intention was this offering was also a prayer which shouldn't be made selfishly, and continued with a portion of a personal prayer which goes, "may they all be touched by compassion and be propelled into rebirths with favorable circumstances where they may be exposed to the Dharma and motivated to learn the teachings of wisdom and liberation from suffering and cyclic existence".
Faye's slip of paper actually just had her son and his family's name, but I added Faye – she being too modest and self-effacing to include it on her own. Since Faye and her family are Christian, I also added, "Respectfully in Jesus's name". I sometimes worry that under Audrey's employ and therefore sphere of influence, Faye may feel she's getting sucked into this Buddhist thing. And I think she's thought about it and has accepted some aspects of Buddhism, but whenever I can, I try to respect her faith, which is where her heart is and where the meaning for her is. I think she preaches at a Filipino church in Kaohsiung, so her faith is no small matter.
I guess I kinda went all out, but come on, it was a hundred dollar bill.
The odd part in retrospect is that I wrapped the Benjamin within the slips of paper so it couldn't be seen immediately that it was a donation. I think I had another white cloth with me and I may have wrapped it all up in the cloth, making it even more obscure. To receive the donation, someone would have to get through all this wrapping to find it, and not knowing there was a donation, I'm not sure who would actually dig for it.
Much later, after returning to Taipei, I woke up one morning with the thought that no one would probably uncover the donation. Epic fail. But then I thought that's actually OK. On Audrey's part, the offering was made when she gave me the money. On Faye's part, the prayer was there when she gave me her slip of paper. The blessings are in those acts, the setting things out into the universe, and not in the factual receipt of a donation in a monastery's coffers
However, on other occasions I've been sure the donation would be uncovered because even from my experience with Zen monks, monks just have an uncanny sensitivity, some would call it "guided"; even more so, I think, with Tibetan monks. When clearing out the offerings around the shrine, I imagine a monk coming across it and not thinking why, but just unwrapping it and finding it just as a natural matter of course.
Even for myself being entrusted with a friggin' hundred dollar bill, there was an aspect of letting go of this money. It wasn't my money, but when Audrey gave it to me, I think I said, "Are you nuts?". I was reluctant. I told her, well, if I don't find an appropriate place to donate it, I'll bring it back, thinking that was a distinct possibility. But at some point in the trip, I knew I would make the donation. Part of me had to let go, too.
We got to Shigatse a couple hours later in the late afternoon. We first went to a "restored" monastery, but the Chinese restored it to be a tourist spot. It was more like a museum and the only monk I saw was there to tell us where we could and couldn't go – a handful of rooms in one building with a design more like an office building that could not have been used for practice. No monastery is designed like that with halls and rooms running along them.
The second monastery we went to was Tashi Lhunpo Monastery, which was the traditional seat of the Panchen Lama. Someone did mention the Panchen Lama to me in a way I understood, and I was able to dig into my memory about the controversy surrounding the current 11th Panchen Lama, but I didn't recall right then what a big deal this was, or how degrading and blasphemously the Chinese handled the finding of the 11th Panchen Lama.
I don't know if any of this history had anything to do with the strong negative reaction I felt while I was there. I broke off from the tour group and went off on my own. There was a point, though, where an overwhelming feeling welled up inside me of disgust at these Chinese tourists.
It was almost a physical revulsion, and from where I was, I just had to get out of the monastery complex immediately. Prior to this, I had come up to a group of 3 monks from behind. When I passed them, I respectfully put my hands together as I do any monks I'm acknowledging. To them, I was Chinese and they didn't return the gesture, but just gave me an indescribable stare. If I knew then what I realized later, I should have said in English, "Don't look at me like that, I'm not Chinese".
But I had to get out. I was pretty deep in the complex and had to plot my way out, winding through the alleys. It was kind of horror movie-ish, blowing by crowds of disgusting, oblivious tourists. At one point I passed a pile of trash that was undoubtedly left by tourists and that monks would have to clean up.
Then I saw one Chinese tourist obnoxiously light up a cigarette despite "no smoking" signs all over the place. I tried to get a picture of this asshole (original file was so despicable I permanently deleted it, -ed.) smoking in a monastery, but he had lowered the cigarette so it wasn't in frame, but the look on his face, however, clearly was indignant and showed no shame.
As I continued out, I passed another monk, and I said out loud in English, "These Chinese people suck!", and he laughed immediately. His laugh was totally appropriate to my statement, letting me know he understood me, he knew English, knew I wasn't Chinese, and knew exactly what I meant, but there was also a wry feeling I got from him like, "you don't know the half of it".
I was totally disgusted. This monastery is not only considered sacred and in the past held in the highest respect by all Tibetans, but it is their home. It's not just a place to practice or worship, this is their living room, now infested daily by swarms of obnoxious Chinese tourists.
That was the point during the trip, pretty late in it, that I realized that I should always make clear to Tibetans that I'm not Chinese, and to always speak English to them first. The reaction I got from Tibetans here on in when I spoke English was totally different from before when they assumed I was Chinese.
Outside of Tashi Lhunpo, there was a Tibetan folk singer playing a Tibetan guitar, the first one I saw who could actually play. I thought about giving him money, but my mind was so disturbed that I didn't. Even after we had gotten on the bus and were pulling out, I thought of telling the bus driver to stop as we were passing him, so I could run out and put some money in his box. But I didn't.
However, it turns out the restaurant we were going to for dinner was just a little ways down the street. I didn't have to give it too much thought, and I told my cousin that I would be gone for a little bit, but I assured him I'd come back to eat. It was a little farther than I thought to go back to the monastery, more than a 15 minute walk, but I'm glad I did, because I felt much more at ease after listening to the singer a bit and giving him some money.
Unfortunately, it just so happened that for the first time our meal wasn't a Chinese-style, multi-course banquet, but a Chinese-style-like, multi-course Tibetan food banquet. There was still some food left by the time I got back, and my cousin had saved me some, and it was really good, so much better than the Chinese food we'd been having, but it's a matter of taste since other people were complaining, "we're not used to this kind of food". Well, duh, that's why you go to foreign countries and try their food, you idiots!
black and white:
Pentax ZX-5n Nikon N70, Kodak BW400CN film:
Rainbow V 22mm lens toy camera, Ilford XP2 Super film:
Damn this thing's turning into a travelogue that is butt-long. Well it's almost done and I think I have progressively less to say here on in. Day 5 was the hump – the halfway point and kind of the climax with the whole day in Lhasa.
This morning we headed off to Shigatse, Tibet's second largest city several hundred kilometers west of Lhasa, not as far away as Nyingchi, but still several hours driving with a stop in the town of Gyantse. As poorly planned was the unnecessary two days in Nyingchi, this was also poorly planned as we basically drove to Shigatse today, and drive back to Lhasa tomorrow, barely getting any sense of this important city at all.
The drive took us to such great heights once again, but I was doing better with the altitude and wasn't pretending to hallucinate about the death bardos. We stopped at around 15,500 feet at a tourist lookout, and different from stops east of Lhasa, everywhere we stopped we were immediately set upon by Tibetan hawkers selling jewelry and crafts.
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| 7:35 a.m., Potala Palace from the hotel dining room |
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| 9:37-10:14 a.m. - traveling to such great heights |
Rainbow V 22mm lens, Ilford XP2 Super film:
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| uncorrected scan (to be clear, black and white film that is able to be C-41 processed (color) at any photo-finisher still comes back with a color tinge, sepia or blue, which has to be removed digitally) |
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| hawkers crowding the bus door. egregious enough for me to have presence of mind to pull out my camera and shoot them. |
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| 2:05 p.m. |
I took to this modest but sincere monastery, which despite nearly being destroyed by the Chinese during the fanatical and bloody Cultural Revolution (during which untold numbers of ordinary Tibetans and monks were arrested, tortured and slaughtered) still houses a handful of monks. And unlike other monasteries which have been converted into tourist spots with the resident monks acting as sideshows for the Chinese, the remoteness here appears to have allowed it to maintain a quiet dignity.
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| Wall ruins of the fort above the monastery, but I'm not clear whether the monastery was contained within the walls nor whether they were even relevant or contemporary to each other. |
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| Buddhist figure/deity who ostensibly could play the instrument. |
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| 2:15-2:26 p.m. |
I don't know why I did what I did, I just did it. I had Audrey's slip of paper (and her nanny, Faye's) on which she wrote down the names of everyone in her family and her address, and I had added "...and all sentient beings", thinking Audrey's intention was this offering was also a prayer which shouldn't be made selfishly, and continued with a portion of a personal prayer which goes, "may they all be touched by compassion and be propelled into rebirths with favorable circumstances where they may be exposed to the Dharma and motivated to learn the teachings of wisdom and liberation from suffering and cyclic existence".
Faye's slip of paper actually just had her son and his family's name, but I added Faye – she being too modest and self-effacing to include it on her own. Since Faye and her family are Christian, I also added, "Respectfully in Jesus's name". I sometimes worry that under Audrey's employ and therefore sphere of influence, Faye may feel she's getting sucked into this Buddhist thing. And I think she's thought about it and has accepted some aspects of Buddhism, but whenever I can, I try to respect her faith, which is where her heart is and where the meaning for her is. I think she preaches at a Filipino church in Kaohsiung, so her faith is no small matter.
I guess I kinda went all out, but come on, it was a hundred dollar bill.
The odd part in retrospect is that I wrapped the Benjamin within the slips of paper so it couldn't be seen immediately that it was a donation. I think I had another white cloth with me and I may have wrapped it all up in the cloth, making it even more obscure. To receive the donation, someone would have to get through all this wrapping to find it, and not knowing there was a donation, I'm not sure who would actually dig for it.
Much later, after returning to Taipei, I woke up one morning with the thought that no one would probably uncover the donation. Epic fail. But then I thought that's actually OK. On Audrey's part, the offering was made when she gave me the money. On Faye's part, the prayer was there when she gave me her slip of paper. The blessings are in those acts, the setting things out into the universe, and not in the factual receipt of a donation in a monastery's coffers
However, on other occasions I've been sure the donation would be uncovered because even from my experience with Zen monks, monks just have an uncanny sensitivity, some would call it "guided"; even more so, I think, with Tibetan monks. When clearing out the offerings around the shrine, I imagine a monk coming across it and not thinking why, but just unwrapping it and finding it just as a natural matter of course.
Even for myself being entrusted with a friggin' hundred dollar bill, there was an aspect of letting go of this money. It wasn't my money, but when Audrey gave it to me, I think I said, "Are you nuts?". I was reluctant. I told her, well, if I don't find an appropriate place to donate it, I'll bring it back, thinking that was a distinct possibility. But at some point in the trip, I knew I would make the donation. Part of me had to let go, too.
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| 2:59 p.m. - Gyantse Fort on high at the right. From the moving bus. |
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| 3:00 p.m. - Gyantse Fort at the right and the wall ruins left of center with a spire of Palcho monastery visible at ground level amidst the walls. |
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| 4:54-5:28 p.m. - Fake Chinese-style Tibetan (oxymoron, with the Chinese being the morons) monastery. |
I don't know if any of this history had anything to do with the strong negative reaction I felt while I was there. I broke off from the tour group and went off on my own. There was a point, though, where an overwhelming feeling welled up inside me of disgust at these Chinese tourists.
It was almost a physical revulsion, and from where I was, I just had to get out of the monastery complex immediately. Prior to this, I had come up to a group of 3 monks from behind. When I passed them, I respectfully put my hands together as I do any monks I'm acknowledging. To them, I was Chinese and they didn't return the gesture, but just gave me an indescribable stare. If I knew then what I realized later, I should have said in English, "Don't look at me like that, I'm not Chinese".
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| Rainbow V, Ilford XP2 Super |
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| 6:06 p.m. |
As I continued out, I passed another monk, and I said out loud in English, "These Chinese people suck!", and he laughed immediately. His laugh was totally appropriate to my statement, letting me know he understood me, he knew English, knew I wasn't Chinese, and knew exactly what I meant, but there was also a wry feeling I got from him like, "you don't know the half of it".
I was totally disgusted. This monastery is not only considered sacred and in the past held in the highest respect by all Tibetans, but it is their home. It's not just a place to practice or worship, this is their living room, now infested daily by swarms of obnoxious Chinese tourists.
That was the point during the trip, pretty late in it, that I realized that I should always make clear to Tibetans that I'm not Chinese, and to always speak English to them first. The reaction I got from Tibetans here on in when I spoke English was totally different from before when they assumed I was Chinese.
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| The monk at the left perfectly symbolizes their situation in what once was their home. |
Outside of Tashi Lhunpo, there was a Tibetan folk singer playing a Tibetan guitar, the first one I saw who could actually play. I thought about giving him money, but my mind was so disturbed that I didn't. Even after we had gotten on the bus and were pulling out, I thought of telling the bus driver to stop as we were passing him, so I could run out and put some money in his box. But I didn't.
However, it turns out the restaurant we were going to for dinner was just a little ways down the street. I didn't have to give it too much thought, and I told my cousin that I would be gone for a little bit, but I assured him I'd come back to eat. It was a little farther than I thought to go back to the monastery, more than a 15 minute walk, but I'm glad I did, because I felt much more at ease after listening to the singer a bit and giving him some money.
Unfortunately, it just so happened that for the first time our meal wasn't a Chinese-style, multi-course banquet, but a Chinese-style-like, multi-course Tibetan food banquet. There was still some food left by the time I got back, and my cousin had saved me some, and it was really good, so much better than the Chinese food we'd been having, but it's a matter of taste since other people were complaining, "we're not used to this kind of food". Well, duh, that's why you go to foreign countries and try their food, you idiots!
black and white:
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| travel shots |
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| Palcho Monastery |
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| Tashi Lhunpo Monastery |
Rainbow V 22mm lens toy camera, Ilford XP2 Super film:
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| uncorrected frame. Tibetan motorcycle club? |
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| Tashi Lhumpo Monastery |
